


Different This Time

by NightOfStarFall



Series: A Tangled Mess Of Time [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Selina Kyle, Fear gas, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Psychological Torture, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Time Travel, discussion of medical procedures, self destructive behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 27,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26916109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightOfStarFall/pseuds/NightOfStarFall
Summary: After saving Jason, Tim finds himself in a new timeline where he never became Robin, and while his life may not have turned out as well this time around, it sure seems better for the rest of the people Tim cares about.But will Tim really be able to stay away from his family? From the life he used to live?Will things actually be different this time?
Series: A Tangled Mess Of Time [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902388
Comments: 648
Kudos: 987





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... It took longer then expected to get this first chapter out, but that is mainly because I kept thinking up scenes from later in the story that I just had to write. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much to my friend Nikko for being my beta and (trying) to keep me on track while writing, and I hope you all enjoy the first chapter of Different This Time.

Tim took a deep breath as he found himself back in his 17 year old body, and was shocked when he was hit by a barrage of images. Memories, he realized. Flashes of memories that were his, but not _his_. It must have been how the time traveler Tim and Bruce had beat could jump around and still know what is going on in the moment.

In his mind he saw all sorts of events from his life.

It was disorienting, and apparently just major events - unless he got more as time went on - but it gave him a base timeline to follow, which he jotted down quickly in a journal with a pen on his bedside, not bothering to see what was in there, just finding blank pages and writing things down.

After his little escapades in the past, it turns out that Tim’s life didn’t change much from before, well, at least not immediately. His parents continued to travel the world and barely spent any time at home, and Tim continued to get good grades and follow Batman and Robin around. Things were normal. Not bad, just normal.

That is until just after Tim’s 14th birthday.

Tim can see the foreign memory as clear as if it had been his own, which he supposed it now was. 

* * *

It was the day after Tim’s birthday, and he had gotten up early to say goodbye, they had actually come home on time for once and they had spent the whole day doing a list of activities that Tim had made. It was of course a bunch of things he knew his parents would enjoy, but he had enjoyed them as well. Before they had left they had given him a hug and told him that he was advancing well through his studies and if he continues to excel as he is, he may be able to go on their next dig and begin to learn what it will take to one day run Drake Industries. He was ecstatic, the photos he had taken that night were exceptionally bright and cheery.

That all came crashing down the next morning, and Tim remembers every vivid detail. 

He was woken up at 5:47am - one hour after he had gotten home, and about 23 minutes after he had fallen asleep - by the door bell ringing. He had ambled down the stairs grogley, wondering who in their right mind would be at the Drake Estate that early in the morning. 

That feeling was removed quickly with a cold bucket of water when he opened the door to find Jim Gordan standing on his porch alongside 2 other officers.

“Hello Commissioner Gordon,” Tim said, knowing his parents would be upset if he let something as minor as exhaustion and shock dispel his manners. “Come in, is there something I can help you with?”

“Thank you Mr. Drake,” Gordon replies, as Tim brings the 3 officers in and leads them to a sitting room, “Do you happen to have a guardian present that we could talk to?”

“Not at this moment. My parents left on a trip yesterday morning and Mrs. Mac, our maid, isn’t scheduled to be here until 9 this morning.” Tim tells them, dutifully leaving out that afterwards she won’t be back again until the following week. He figured it wouldn’t go over well with law enforcement. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Well, Mr. Drake, we have some bad news.” Gordon looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. “Would you mind taking a seat.”

Tim wanted to protest. To hold his ground. But he thought back once more to his parents, how proud they had been of his recent behaviour, and he sat. 

“Mr. Drake, I am afraid I have to tell you that…” He paused, clearly searching for the most considerate words to use, “There was an accident with your parents’ plane and I’m afraid… I’m afraid that they didn’t make it.”

Tim blinked incomprehensibly.

“I’m very sorry Commissioner, I’m afraid I think I misheard you.” Tim tried to remain pleasant, but there was only so much he could do with his thought whirling in his head. “Because it sounds very much like you’re implying that my parents are…” Tim searches for the correct words, “That they died. I’m sure that that can’t be true.”

Gordon clears his throat, “I’m afraid it is Mr. Drake, and we are going to need you to come down to the station with us while social service works everything out.”

“Oh no, Commissioner, I can wait here, I am old enough and I…” Tim didn’t know where he was going with this. He knew that he shouldn’t be talking back or arguing, but he couldn’t help it. Nothing made sense. He was numb. It didn’t make sense! “I can’t just leave the house unattended. I need to... I need...” He couldn’t breath, his head was fuzzy, nothing was making sense.

“Hey, kid, you need to breathe, come on, it will be okay!”

There was a female officer kneeling in front of him on the ground, and that was odd. When had he gone from the armchair to the floor? Whatever, it didn’t matter at the moment, what mattered was the fact that he had been giving a directive and he needed to follow it. So he does his best to listen, to follow the breathing of the officer, and to just pay attention to the soothing melody of her voice, gently explaining why it was best for him to come and wait at the police station.

It took a moment, but Tim did manage to get his breathing under control, having it explained to him definitely helped in that regard, and he slowly pulled himself back together.

“I’m sorry,” He said, pulling himself off of the floor and wiping away the tears that had squeezed themselves out of his eyes. “I understand, I do, I just… I think I’m just in a bit of a shock.”

“It’s ok, son.” Gordon said, passing him over a bottle of water, which Tim took and forced himself to sip on. “Now, I’m pretty sure that you will be allowed to come back when things are all said and done, but is there anything that you’d like to grab before we go?”

Tim nodded numbly before turning to go upstairs. His camera, he needs his camera. And his photo lock box. He couldn’t risk anyone taking those and figuring out who Batman was, he didn’t know what he would do with himself if he caused that.

* * *

Tim shook his head slightly, dislodging the painful memory.

He’d had some other flashes, a handful of foster homes he cycled through, most of them - the upper class families especially - who wanted the money, or access to Drake Industries, and who dropped him when they found out that DI was being watched over by a board of directors until Tim turned 18 and could take over the company himself and that Tim only had a very limited access to his trust fund until he turned 18 and they no one else could gain access to it. 

He saw himself get more frustrated as the first year and a half went by and he continued to get passed from house to house. But regardless of how useful he was, or how he tried to stay out of the way, he was just never quite enough to be kept once money and power were out of the question. So it seemed that 15 and a half year old Tim ran away. He stayed in Gotham - easier to slip in the cracks and go unnoticed - and used things he had learned from stalking Batman and some of the worse homes he stayed in - the ones where he’d hide bruises and scars beneath long clothes and make up, where they seemed by light of day to be good and happy, but where night brought danger - to make fake IDs, to hack his trust fund and set up new accounts for the money he’d take. Not enough to be noticed, but enough to live and to have a small savings made.

He bought an apartment in the shady side of Gotham, where questions aren’t asked so long as you can pay. It was small, the entire apartment only slightly larger than the room he had as a child, with uneven floor boards, and peeling paint. But it had a closet he turned into a dark room, and the bedding he bought had little bats and robins all over it, and it was his. He owned it. He still does. And his neighbours keep to themselves. No one asked where his parents are, or why he is always the one to make payments, or how exactly he had gotten the scar across his jaw. They probably assumed the worst. That his parents were deadbeats or drug addicts. They beat him, or they weren’t around ever. One of those things was true, to an extent.

And given Tim’s habit of sneaking out late at night and returning early in the morning, paired with the occasional limp from a bad land, or bruise when he wasn’t able to get out of sticky situations. 

He knew what they thought he was doing to make money.

But Tim didn’t care, because he was free. And yeah, he had to do certain things to change his appearance so no one could find him and stick him back in foster care, but no one told him what to do, no one was there to make him get the best grades, no one was pushing and pushing and pushing, uncaring of how he hurt. Tim was free, had been free for the year and a half since, and he wasn’t going to let the memories of a timeline he didn’t exist in anymore take that from him.

So he set his shoulders, wrote out the memories he was getting, and then forced himself up. He would find out what changed, and he would decide where to go from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I know what you guys might be thinking _'But Star, how did Tim save Jason, seems like a cop out not showing us'_ and ya know... You aren't wrong. I wish I could tell you that it's all because I have important plan with that for later in the story... But honestly I have no fucking clue how he saved Jason. I know I need to know by the end because of a scene that I am writing, but for now... This is it. Sorry darling.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks later, thanks in part to this timeline’s version of him keeping meticulous notes, Tim was confident that he was as caught up on the world as could be at this point.
> 
> He was also slowly losing his mind.
> 
> After so long being a vigilante, Tim couldn’t help but yearn for the freedom it gave him. Suddenly, he felt trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are folk! Chapter two!! I am... I'm not unhappy with it, but I'm not entirely happy with it. It took me far too long to write because it was just kinda boring, so I apologize about that. But it is all important to moving forward with this story.
> 
> Enjoy!!  
> -  
> Also, I changed my name between chapters, just in case you were wondering. :)

After writing out the memories into the notebook, Tim began to look around, getting acquainted with the apparent he saw in his memories.

It was fairly small, a main room that consisted of a small living room with a small lumpy brown stained couch, and a small TV that he only ever hooked up to his computer when he wanted a larger screen for watching whatever he wanted. Off against the wall was a kitchen, sort of divided by way of a chipped island. It had an old microwave, a toaster over, and a refrigerator. He knew he had about 3 plates and 5 sets of utensils and a handful of assorted cookware. The walls were painted what must have been at one point a nice off-white colour, but the years had not been kind. They were splashed in stains, and were peeling in a lot of places, likely dues to smoke or something similar.

Entering the bedroom, it was a little nicer. The walls a dark grey that hid the stains and that were largely untouched by anything that caused the peeling in the main room. His bed was rather lumpy, but he kept nice sheets and a heavy blanket to keep off the chill of Gotham’s nights. In the corner was a small closet that he knew contained only a small amount of clothes – all bought second hand from a little thrift store down the road owned by an older lady who liked to coo at how mature he is for buying his own clothes – and which doubled down as a makeshift darkroom. And then there was his pride and joy.

In the corner next to the window, hidden from the outside view, was his desk, which contained a bunch of notebooks he used as makeshift casefiles, and the laptop he kept in the locked top right-hand drawer, which he has spent a bunch of time re-enforcing. The locked top left-hand drawer – which is just as, if not more so, reinforced – held all the photos he’s taken and kept of Batman, along with a bunch of rapidly filling notebooks of note. Notes about every photo, all of which are numbered for easy finding, including the date, place, and weather conditions, as well as anything he found interesting. Pulling out one photo, numbed as 237, he studied it. It was a gorgeous shot of Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and the hero that Jason grew into, Bluejay. The four of the were staring off the side of the building, a rare mostly clear night, with a full moon in the upper corner, Batman and Robin were in the centre, capes fluttering. On either side of them were Nightwing and Bluejay, they all looked like they were about to take off into the evening, off in the direction the Bat signal and GCPD. Tim flipped through the corresponding book and read the slightly messy scrawl.

> _**Taken:** December 25th, Helborn Clinic, Partly cloudy, -4°F_
> 
> _**Notes:** Nightwing and Bluejay were both in town at the same time, which is cool, that doesn’t usually happen unless there is an Arkham breakout. But I suppose it is Christmas. I was honestly shocked to see them out, I had been expecting them to be enjoying the holiday. I had been hoping to get info on the Falcone drug deal. This was a much better present then what I was expecting. Merry Christmas to me._

Closing the notebook, Tim swallowed against the onslaught of emotions in his chest as the memory of the night came back to him. It had been two Christmas’ ago, the first one he spent on his own after running away. Christmas had always made him sad after his parents’ death. Unusually so, as he can count on one hand the number of Christmas’ he spent with his parents. Usually they couldn’t make it back for some reason or another, and they always found a different holiday to celebrate, something from an ancient culture, one that fell on the times they would be back. They celebrated solstice, imbolc, parentalia, all sorts of different holidays. But Christmas wasn’t a thing they celebrated often. But being out that night, all on his own, and seeing his heroes, had made him so unconditionally happy. He had only been on his own for just over a month at that point and it had seemed like a sign. Something good. It made him think that maybe he wasn’t crazy for running away, for being on his own.

With a sigh, he decided to look in his case files and through his laptop, in the back of his mind he made a note to beef up the security. While this Tim had had an idea on how to protect his technology, it was nothing compared to what current Tim knows and he would rather risk someone wondering why he has such strong protection on his computer as opposed to someone getting his information.

With a quick stretch, he got started. He had a whole world to catch up on after all.

* * *

Two weeks later, thanks in part to this timeline’s version of him keeping meticulous notes, Tim was confident that he was as caught up on the world as could be at this point.

He was also slowly losing his mind.

After so long being a vigilante, Tim couldn’t help but yearn for the freedom it gave him. Suddenly, he felt trapped. Like he was locked up in a cage and couldn’t get out. Even going out collecting his information for the police, and his bird watching – something he had missed as a vigilante himself – wasn’t enough to alleviate the feeling of restlessness.

Maybe a little when he was free running, jumping between buildings, the sense of weightlessness, the sudden feeling of ground under his feet, pushing the momentum, the sweet call of adrenaline.

All things he would feel when he was out fighting crime.

It was something he debated with himself a lot. The idea of going back into it. Of taking up the mask. It pulled at his brain late at night – early morning. But it was crazy.

Sort of.

Absentmindedly he had planned. He knew where, and when, and how he could get everything he needed to make a costume and the bare essentials of what he would need to hit the town. He already had a bunch of stuff that he used when he went bird watching and when he went looking into crimes.

He could have everything together in two weeks.

With a sigh he shook his head, as he geared up to go out again.

It was a crazy idea. It was insane. It was counterproductive to everything he wanted to do in changing time.

Except… Jason Todd never died in this timeline. Him going out and adding another vigilante to Gotham, another protector of the people… It couldn’t hurt. The people deserve all the help they can get, and it’s not like him being out could negatively impact his fam- the Bats in any way.

Maybe it could even help. Sure, they would be a little tense and on high alert, but if Tim could prove that he was good enough and just wanted to help, then he would be taking off the burden of the entire city by getting his own territory.

Besides, he knew how to get on their good side. He knew how to prove that he knew what he was doing. He had done it before, proving that he could be helpful.

With that in mind, he started to remove his gear. Figuring it would be best to start on it sooner rather than later, and ignoring the fact that he was giddy to get back a semblance of normal in this world that he felt so off kilter in.

* * *

Tim was starting to wonder if this would be a pattern, as he stood on the top of the apartment building three to the right of his. If two weeks was going to be a staple of him getting things together. Because that was how long it took him to get to this point. His costume was made, sitting just right on his body, and he thanked every god that he could think of that he had learned how to sew to fix tears in his costume, because he has no clue what he would have done if he had to learn that too.

On him were some bare necessities. A grapple gun, some homemade bird-a-rangs, smoke pellets, a handful of commercial antidotes to common rogue toxins – he’d have to get samples of rogue toxins to synthesize better, more effective toxins, but these would work in a bind – and of course, he had a bo staff. A collapsible one that he had gotten online and did some light modification on, which would work until he could make his own. He had spent a few hours practising with it, just to relearn the movements, and make adjustments to the way he moved with the unfamiliar weight this one provided – which is what he did the most adjustments on – but he was finally ready to go.

And with a smile, Tim shot out his line, and took off into the night, letting out a little laugh, and finally feeling a little peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Tim is back in business. Maybe I surprised you, maybe I didn't, but I hope that you enjoyed this regardless. 
> 
> I actually have a handful of chapters written that I wrote when I was totally not procrastinating this one, So I may be able to start of a vaguely consistent schedule, so that is good!
> 
> If you want to leave a comment, please do, I love hearing your responses. Feel free to guess what is going to happen next, and I will see you all in the next chapter!  
> -StarFall


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flying above the skies of Gotham, Tim felt more alive than he has in the last month. Yes, stalking Batman again was a thrill, and putting his detective skills to work helping the GCPD was fantastic, but this was different. 
> 
> This was flying in a way only a Bat could. Adrenalin and magic thrummed through his body. Cool wind bit at his cheeks and Tim couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, he felt giddy. For a few moments nothing mattered. Sure, he was without backup, there wasn’t anyone watching his back, and his ears were silent, but he was free.
> 
> -
> 
> Tim's first night out, with no one at his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! It is not often that I am going to be getting a chapter out this soon, but it was already done and I am an impatience bitch, so enjoy, lol
> 
> Slight trigger warning, there is a fight, but it's not overly described.

Flying above the skies of Gotham, Tim felt more alive than he has in the last month. Yes, stalking Batman again was a thrill, and putting his detective skills to work helping the GCPD was fantastic, but this was different. 

This was flying in a way only a Bat could. Adrenalin and magic thrummed through his body. Cool wind bit at his cheeks and Tim couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, he felt giddy. For a few moments nothing mattered. Sure, he was without backup, there wasn’t anyone watching his back, and his ears were silent, but he was free.

Landing on the next roof, Tim took a moment to refocus. He had planned this out meticulously. He had thought of taking a few days to get back into the swing of things, but ultimately decided to make a statement. There was a weapon sale going down at the docks today, Two Face selling a bunch of black market weapons to Penguin, and instead of giving the information he had to the GCPD he was going to take them down and leave them nice and gift wrapped for them.

He has thought, briefly, of taking a few days to slowly work his way into the vigilante scene, before ultimately deciding that it would be more beneficial to just jump right in.

As he made his way down towards the docks, he couldn’t help but debate his future plans. Because Jason hadn’t died and come back, he never really needed to carve out his place in the city and given that he often jumped between Gotham and Bludhaven he never had a very set territory.

As such, Crime Alley didn’t have a dedicated protector. Tim was thinking of trying to carve that out as his place. He figured if he knew enough about it between this timeline and the last one (which he really needs to figure out another way to talk about it, even if it’s just to himself.) He knew that Crime Alley was in a constant power struggle, making it hard for shops to pay for protection money when the powers demanding it was ever changing, and that meant that even if a place paid for protection, it could still get hit and then the owner would be out the amount taken and the amount they had paid out. When Jason had been in charge, even after getting on good terms with the Bats, still ran the place in a way that crime lords did, but that he made sure that any money that went in as protection money made their way back to the shop somehow, made sure that any drugs on his streets were clean and never sold to kids, made sure the working girls were safe, getting to keep their fair shares, and made sure to make examples of the bad johns as to what happens when you got too rough with a working girl under his care.

Tim knew he could never be what Jason was. Knew he could never be good enough, but he figured that if he could protect this place, the place he grew up, the place that Tim now lived, then maybe it could be a start.

Making it down to the warehouse by the docks, he silently got himself into the rafters above the deal that had just begun and took a quick stock to ensure that what he knew was correct.

There was a lieutenant from each gang, and each had brought 6 extra men, likely just for the passing of the product, considering the detail should already be settled on. Settling in for a moment, he listens to the conversation. After a few minutes of nothing but what seems like idle chatter and useless posturing, the crates begin to switch hands and Tim knows it’s time to shine.

Dropping down onto the center table with his cap fluttering out behind him, Tim lands in a crouch, collapsible bo staff hidden carefully in his right hand as he raises the left in a small wave, taking the moment of shock he caused to bring in a quick quip.

“Hello fellas, hope you don’t mind me dropping in.”

“Who the hell’s you?” Asks Black Mask’s lieutenant, Anthony Brooker. “A new bat? Or just some other costumed freak getting himself killed.”

“That’s not important right now.” Tim says, letting himself smirk a little, dropping deeper into the bravado of Red Robin, “But I’m not a Bat.”

With that Tim pulled the key on his bo, giving it a swing while it was still opening up and sweeping Brooker off his feet and flipping over the other side of the warehouse, landing with a flourish of the staff.

“I’m worse.”

With that things truly kicked off. Tim lost himself in the feelings he hadn’t realized he missed so much. Spinning and flipping away from the spray of bullets and pushing himself. Sweeping legs out from under people and knocking them out with well aimed it to the head.

There was a thrill to fighting. The feeling of near weightlessness as he fluttered around the room, feet grounding themselves only to deliver a well placed hit, before he was off again, and the feeling thrumb of adrenaline under his skin letting him know that even one misstep could cause death, raising his awareness and sending lightning bolts of shock to his brain.

It was over far earlier then Tim wished, and he was left with 14 unconscious bodies, which he made quick work of binding. He grabbed a burner phone from one of the assorted goons – penguin’s if the colour scheme was any indication – and quickly dialed 911.

“911, what’s your emergency.” The slightly bored toned women one the other side answered.

“Gotham freight yard warehouses, unit 139, I have a pickup for Gotham’s finest.” Tim didn’t even wait for a response before hanging up, expecting that they would understand what exactly that would mean.

Moving his way up to the rafters once more, he kept watch for the GCPD and made sure none of the criminals got away somehow. It only took 17 minutes for Tim to hear the telltale sound of sirens getting ever closer. Impressive, but not entirely shocking considering that they had no clue who had made the call. As the sirens pulled up and Tim was sure the GCPD would have it well in hand, he heard a voice pipe up from underneath him.

“If you ain’t a bat, then who are you?”

Tilting his head as he looks down at the criminal below him, Tim gives a little smirk. Pulling himself to the window, he turns around to address the criminal as the doors to the warehouse opens and the GCPD enters.

“You can just call me Red Robin.”

And with that, Tim turns, throwing himself from the window and into the night, on his way to stop more crime, with his blood singing and a genuine smile tugging on his lips, feeling more alive in this moment then he has since he carried the gentle weight of robin.

Who knew how nice it could be to be just Red Robin, and not Batman’s ex-Robin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thank you to everyone who left comments, they really make my day. 
> 
> To everyone who commented about how being a sad vigilante is a one way ticket to getting adopted by Bruce and antithetical to Tim's goal... Look, the boy is a genius, but he is also a moron. Give him a break, lmao


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Landing on the roof of the GCPD without a sound, Bruce listened as Jason landed as well. Damian was currently benched due to an ankle injury and Dick was currently in Bludhaven but had given his word to make his way over if the signal was something serious, so it had just been him and Jason for the evening. He took in the line of Gordan’s back, he was tense, worried. Something significant has gone down, and it obviously hasn’t made the news, or else he would know it by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While you all were talking about Tim's stupid decision to remain Red Robin, I was showing how y'all are absolutely right. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, I had a time posing this because I got my chapter mixed up and almost posted chapter 5 instead. Maybe I need to use the sleep.

Landing on the roof of the GCPD without a sound, Bruce listened as Jason landed as well. Damian was currently benched due to an ankle injury and Dick was currently in Bludhaven but had given his word to make his way over if the signal was something serious, so it had just been him and Jason for the evening. He took in the line of Gordan’s back, he was tense, worried. Something significant has gone down, and it obviously hasn’t made the news, or else he would know it by now.

“Gordan. What is happening?” Bruce started, figuring it was best to get right down to business. When Gordan turned and when Bruce saw the lines of his face it became apparent that whatever it is has deeply troubled him.

“Batman, Bluejay, good, you’re here.” There was relief in his tone, which does nothing to calm Bruce. “I need to ask. Did you take on a new protégé?”

That was… A troubling question.

“No, why?”

“Earlier this evening the GCPD got called to a warehouse at the doc yard. When they got there the criminals were already tied up and there was someone exiting through a window by the rafters. Called himself Red Robin and took off into the night with a grappling gun. The guys we’ve managed to interrogate have all so far told the same story. The guy dropped in from the sky, made a quip about not being a Bat, and then took down 14 armed men. In a matter of a couple of minutes.” Gordan explained, “He was incredibly sure of himself and fought with a staff of all things. They said that he was not someone they wanted to meet again. Even though he said he wasn’t, I figured it would be best to check with you that you hadn’t taken on another wayward vigilante.”

That was… Out of the ordinary, to say the least. There have been a handful of people who have taken to attempting vigilantism – Stephanie Brown pops into his mind briefly – but never has it been where they’re first appearance is taking down a warehouse of armed muscle. They had always started out smaller, built their way up. To show up suddenly with skill – or at the very least a large amount of dumb luck…

“We will look into it. Thank you for the information Gordan, we will be in touch.”

Without much more fanfare Bruce turned, gesturing for Jason to follow him, and then launched into the night. He paused a couple of roofs away and called for Dick over the coms.

“Nightwing, this is Batman, come in.”

“I read you Batman, what’s up. You need me back?”

“I’d say, N.” Jason said, landing on the roof with Bruce. “It appears we’ve got ourselves a little copycat.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He sounded shocked. “Copycat Batman, or copycat villain?”

“A new vigilante.” Bruce says. “I wouldn’t call him a copycat, but he seems to have skill. He took down a handful of armed men using a staff weapon – likely a bo staff - during a weapons sale by the docks and introduced himself as Red Robin. Prior to this evening there had been no reports of a new vigilante, yet he supposedly fights like he has been fighting for a while.”

“I see…” There is an obvious note of worry in his voice. “I will be there as soon as I can.”

* * *

Back at the cave, Bruce gathered everyone and had been going over what they knew – which, admittedly, wasn’t much.

“As far as we know, this could be an isolated incident. It’s possible he just had a score to settle with one of the men there, but we need to operate as if it is not an isolated incident. Keep our eyes open and our ears to the ground. If you find him, follow, but don’t engage. If he spots you in return, call for backup. If he engages you, activate a distress beacon. It may be overkill, but something is off about this, and I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks until we know more.”

“But father, would it not be easier just to subdue this Red Robin and bring him somewhere for interrogation?” Damian asks, leaning over the table from where here had been standing. “After all, he seems more as if he is an overconfident nobody who got lucky this once and will cease his useless charade if we show him he is not invincible.”

“No, Damian, we will not engage until more is known.” Bruce told him, putting his foot down. “If we are lucky, he is just an overconfident kid with some useful skills and a vendetta, but if we are wrong then we risk upsetting someone with an unknown amount of training who could attempt to go after us. So far we have been lucky just in that he is going after the bad guys.”

“Besides,” Jason pipes up, “I’m kinda interested to find out more about this kid. After all, how often is it that you see someone fighting with a bo staff. Aren’t those things like, super difficult to use?”

“Yeah,” Dick replies, “Well, yes and no. They are lightweight and carry a strong punch behind them, putting the power into a smaller area, but because they are so long they can be a little unwieldy at times. You have to be more aware of how it swings around you. Not to mention they can be easy to take from you if your opponent gets a hand on it. The fact that this guy seems so good with it, and so comfortable, suggests that he’s been practicing with it for a while.”

“Yes, but I strongly doubt that his bo is going to be any sort of match for my sword and league training.” Damian reintegrated into the conversation.

“Maybe not,” Bruce amends, knowing that it is likely true, “But regardless you are still benched for another 3 weeks until that ankle has healed completely. You can’t be in full fighting shape with an injury.”

Damian nodded in acquisition, unhappy but understanding.

“Regardless, I have a feeling that he has something to do with the time ripple that came from here.”

“Yeah, what exactly was that B?” Dick asks, “because you never did explain.”

“About a month ago, Wally reported that there was a time ripple. It wasn’t connected to the speedforce, and it originated here in Gotham. The problem is, because it wasn’t connected to speedforce, he can’t tell what was changed, or how that affected the timeline.”

“And you think the dude with the bo staff, who named himself after a restaurant chain is the culprit?” Jason asks, sarcasm dripping in his voice “Because that seems likely.”

“Maybe not necessarily, though we shouldn’t count him out quite yet, but he might have something to do with what was changed.” Bruce explained, “Maybe he was a vigilante, and this is that timeline spilling over, maybe something changed in this timeline that put him on this path, I’m not sure, but my intuition is telling me that he’s connected somehow.”

The boys all looked at each other and it was tense for a moment, until Jay gave a huge, over exaggerated yawn.

“Well. As fun as this has been, it’s been a long night, and I am going to get changed and pass out for a few hours.”

“He’s right. We should get some sleep; Red Robin will still be there in the morning to deal with.”

There was a smattering of goodnights from the boys as they all changed and headed upstairs in the elevator, mindful of Damian’s ankle, and as Bruce watched them all enter their rooms with a soft smile, he tried to ignore the unease in his chest that he had forgotten something important.

* * *

Tim entered his apartment with the biggest smile on his face as he all but drags himself out of the suit and into bed. Excitement buzzed under his skin as he drifted off, not even caring that he was going to be watched closely now, not if he gets this feeling every night.

But as the adrenaline fades as he slips closer to sleep he can’t help but feel the ache in his chest that he can’t be with his family.

But it doesn’t matter.

They are better off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Much less Tim angst this chapter! Yay! This small break was brought to you by my friend begging me to give the baby a break.
> 
> Well... Here you go! Have a good break!
> 
> Next chapter is... Yeah.
> 
> Anyways! Please to leave a kudos or a comment if you would like! I love getting feedback! And as always, stay safe!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penguin and Two face were still out but had yet to make any more moves after he busted the arms deal, and none of the other rogues that were currently out had made any moves. There was actually very little movement in any crime. Even the small crimes that Tim had been stopping were few and far between.
> 
> The criminal underground was holding their breath. Word of Red Robin’s debut had spread pretty quickly in the media, and everyone was waiting to see what would happen, if he was working with the Bat, or if there was going to be a showdown, and while he hoped it wouldn't get that far – he doesn’t know what he would do if it came down to an actual fight – he knew he couldn’t keep putting off talking to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update scheduled? What's that? Who's she? I told Myself I would do weekly updates. Once every 7 days, but my little brain gremlin wanted validation so here we are, not a full week after the last update to bring you this one! And hey! It only took 5 chapters but we are finally getting to some actual plot, not just build up plot!
> 
> Enjoy!

Tim couldn’t quite stop the smirk from quirking up his lips when he became aware of his shadow. It was Damian this time, which Tim was still thankful for. Over the last 4 weeks he had been keeping a fairly low profile as the Bats had been tracking and trailing him. It had worried him at first when he didn’t see Damian. He knew he was alive, there was no chatter that Damian or Robin had been injured though, and he was worried about what might have happened to the brat. The soothing comfort of his presence at his back was not one he had ever thought he’d have, but it was nice to know that saving Jason hadn’t gotten him killed.

In those 4 weeks Tim stuck mainly to the East End and Crime Alley, stopping muggings and other small crimes, and only went out at Red Robin 3 times a week – the rest of the week he was out bird watching and gathering intel for the GCPD – and was honestly content with at the moment.

There wasn’t anything major going on. Penguin and Two face were still out but had yet to make any more moves after he busted the arms deal, and none of the other rogues that were currently out had made any moves. There was actually very little movement in any crime. Even the small crimes that Tim had been stopping were few and far between.

The criminal underground was holding their breath. Word of Red Robin’s debut had spread pretty quickly in the media, and everyone was waiting to see what would happen, if he was working with the Bat, or if there was going to be a showdown, and while he hoped it wouldn't get that far – he doesn’t know what he would do if it came down to an actual fight – he knew he couldn’t keep putting off talking to them. He also knew that they would likely be waiting for him on a rooftop that he made sure to cross over patrol for the past 2 weeks, having hoped they would pick up the pattern. So, he veered off, heading towards the building the long way, which would allow Damian the time to join his family if there was intention to meet.

Sure enough, it took only a moment for Damian's presence to disappear from his subconscious.

Taking his time – because knowing he had to talk to the Bats and _actually_ having to talking to them were two very different things – Tim landed on the roof almost silently, forcing himself to not tense when Bruce stepped out of the shadow, Jason, Damian, and Dick not far behind. Instead, he took a breath, squared his shoulders, preparing himself for the next who knows how long of dealing with the family that doesn’t know he exists anymore.

It would be fine.  
He would be fine.

They were better off without him anyways.

* * *

After 4 weeks of watching the new vigilante and keeping to the shadows so as to not alert him, the Bat clan had finally managed to track down a point of interception for his supposed patrol route, and all that was left to do was wait for the hero to show. Damian had been tailing them, but had veered off to meet them, radioing them to let them know that Red Robin was on route, and that he would meet them at the building. The anticipation under Jason’s skin was growing as they stood in the shadows, waiting for the Red Robin to arrive.

They ended up having to wait almost 15 minutes before Red Robin landed on the roof, surprising, considering the route Damian saw him taking should have only taken 10, but brushing it off as him having stopped some small crime.

Immediately after he landed, before he had the chance to move on, the group of 4 emerged from their various perches. Jason watched with a critical eye as he not only didn’t seem surprised about their presence, but just took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, setting himself up to look larger than he was. It was a tactic that Jason himself had used pretty often in the past, when he was new and unsure of his place in the hierarchy, wanting to test the bounds a bit. It made Jason all the more curious about this kid – which looking at him, he was at most Jason’s age – was and where he had come from.

“Red Robin,” Batman said in his ‘you will listen and tell me what I want voice.’ “It’s about time we had a chat.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Red Robin replied with such an undercut of authority to his voice that Jason couldn’t help but straighten subtly, watching out the corner of his eye and Damian and Dick both did as well. “So you have me here. Talk. Before I decide that actually doing my job is more important.”

And despite the coolness of the tone, Jason couldn’t help but smirk.

This kid was going to make things interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I mean for ending the chapter here? Probably. Oh well. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Give me all your theories! How do you think this will go? What do you think will happen? Will they fight? Will they just talk? Will Bruce try and adopt Tim? Will he jump off a building to avoid this? Will he cry? Will they all spontaneously regain their memories?
> 
> Those are good questions, and I will probably update tomorrow or the day after when my little gremlin brain tells me I have to in order to receive validation and also because the next chapter has a scene that I wrote for this story back when I first started writing this story.
> 
> Anyways, stay safe and enjoy friends!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t know what emotions played across his face, but suddenly Dick was staring at him with such an open and honest look, Bruce and Damian both had these twin looks of confusion and an almost worried look, Jason had an almost calculating look on his face, and Tim was cursing himself for the slip of his mask.
> 
> “Are you ok there, Red?” And god, Dick’s voice was almost more open then his face was and so reminiscent of late nights after an emotional patrol sitting the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate that it was all Tim could do to not burst into tears right there, overrun with the strongest wave of homesickness yet.
> 
> “Yeah,” He managed, clearing his throat a couple times. “Just… Brothers, ya know? They can be a handful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Here we go! The little writing gremlin in my brain said that I required more serotonin from comments and that I need to know what people think, so here we have it! The chapter I have had written since pretty much the beginning of the fic! I hope you all like it as much as I do!
> 
> Also, my little brain gremlin really do say "consistent chapter lengths? Don't know her" and dips.

Tim was not panicking. 

Or at least, not panicking outwardly - thank you Bat training.

But here he was, standing on a rooftop, surrounded by a family he cared deeply for, but could no longer be a part of. He wasn't going to lie and say that it wasn't playing a funny game with his rib cage. He had made a deal about setting his shoulders and squaring himself for this, but when it came down too it, Tim was panicking inside.

He knew it was bound to happen at some point. Hell, he had planned for it to be tonight, but as he stood there, actually facing down with family, he could help but want to run. To get away from this place and hide under a blanket.

Unfortunately, life didn’t like giving him a break.

“Red Robin,” Bruce said in an authoritarian voice, and Tim kind of wanted to cry, both from hearing his voice again, and from the implication of it turned on him, “It’s about time we had a chat.”

With a subtle sallow, he fortified the mask of indifference he wore, willing himself to not only have the strength to hide all the emotions he couldn’t begin to explain to the Bat, and as a way to distance himself from the situation

 _‘If you are to succeed in this world, you must not show others your hand, ever.’_ Words his mother once told him, creeping into his mind. He banished them for the moment, knowing their validity, but not having the time to dwell on them at the moment.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” He replied, pulling forth the businessman persona he used to use when he needed to put potential investors on edge. He felt bad using it on the bats but given the way Dick, Jason, and Damian all visibly straightened it was probably the right call to make, “So you have me here. Talk. Before I decide that actually doing my job is more important.”

He not only stood his ground as Bruce glared at him, but watching out of the corner of his eye as Jason smirked, Tim found that he couldn’t help but relax just a fraction, knowing that he hadn’t seemed to mess with anyone's personalities all too badly.

“We will keep this simple, who are you and what are you doing in our city?”

With a quick eye roll, Tim gives the most truthful answer he can without giving anything away, “As I’m sure you know, the name’s Red Robin. As for what I’m doing… Much the same you are, I’d wager a guess. Gotham is my home, but it has its problems. I got tired of sitting back and letting you do all the work. So I decided to give you a hand.”

“You. Giving us a hand?” Jason piped up, “I mean, I’ll give it to you, you’ve done a wonderful job not dying over the last month. But do you really think that your dumb luck is going to keep carrying you when you meet someone with some actual fire power.”

“Bluejay, don’t worry him too bad. He’s been holding his own well and you know it.” Said Dick, ever the peacemaker, but the edge of his voice told Tim everything he needed to know. Dick though he was being as dumb as Jason did.

Well that worked just as well for Tim as he smirked a little, allowing himself to fall into a cockier persona, “I’d say I’ve been doing better then holding my own, I mean, I have managed to avoid all of you this long. And trust me, I could have kept avoiding you if I wanted to, but I figured it would be easier to get along with you guys then to pull you away from your own crimes with your shotty stalking jobs.”

“Shotty?” Jason asked.

“What. You didn’t think you were following an unaware vigilante, did you? Anything you saw of myself I let you see. The same can’t be said about the opposite though, can it? I’ve had my eye on you and none of you ever noticed."

“Following us?” Bruce cut back in, glare intensifying as he straitened even further, “How and where have you been following us?”

“Well telling you that would render that ability null, wouldn’t it?” Tim shot back, almost icily. He didn’t know where he was dragging this bravado from, but he was letting it reign, and wondering subtly if this was the personality from this life peaking through. A product of the last couple of hears spent on his own, combined with an upbringing of neglect without intervention. Either way, he decided just to let it lead the conversation, to keep his emotions in check.

“I think you misunderstand Red Robin. I’m not asking you; I’m telling you to tell me. How, where, and when have you been following us?” His tone was cold enough to melt steel, but Tim could hear the undercut of worry and protectiveness, bringing back in enough of that familiar warmth that Tim could disregard everything else.

“I’ll tell you what, Batsy. You catch me at some point following you - without me revealing myself - and I will answer almost any three questions you have in full honesty. But that’s the only way you can guarantee I tell you the truth. Anything else you ask outside those parameters could be either true or false, but you catch me, and you can ask for almost anything.”

“Like a genie.” Dick pipes up quietly, obviously not meant for anyone else but not quite concealed.

“No.” Bruce says. “You will give me the truth of who you are, where you come from, and your apparent stalker tendencies, and you will give it to me now.”

He was frigid, the vacuum of space was warmer than his tone of voice, the only heat coming from his eyes as he attempted to burn the truth out of Tim with his stare, and Tim felt something snap at the words.

“No. You listen here. I did not go through everything I did to have things end up this way, just for you to just pull it out of me because you think being bigger equates to being scarier and that I should just give in and let you in on my secrets, well guess what. It’s not happening. Things are the way they should be, and I am not going to lose that.” Tim stated, voice sub zero, colder than even Bruce’s had been, and everyone stiffened. But he didn’t care.

He was angry. He knew, he _knew_ they didn’t know who he was. What things were like. But hearing Bruce’s want to know all of Tim’s secrets, knowing there was no way he would give up any of his own, made him mad.

“Look. There is my deal, you can take it or leave it. I’m not just going to tell you everything about me without anything in return.” Tim seethed, “I am not some stupid untrained kid who is going to fold like a house of cards and tell you my secrets and just because you stand there and stare me down. If you want my secrets, you can tell me yours.”

“You have spunk, little red, I’ll give you that.” Jason remarked, with a low whistle as everyone else looked on with shocked expressions, “Not many people have the brass to stand up to the Bat like that.”

And Tim wondered for a moment how he was going to explain away his lack of fear. It’s not as if he could simply tell them that he trained under Batman for so long that his glare isn’t really something that holds an effect on him anymore.

“Yeah, well, there are things I’ve lived through that are much scarier than the glare of a furry who goes out at night to beat up criminals. You live through enough, and your sense of fear gets a little skewed.”

Tim was dead. Why would he ever open his mouth. Where did that even come from?

Everyone else was frozen, staring in shock at Tim’s words. And Tim was contemplating actually leaving just to avoid the tension.

As quickly as it arrived, the tension dissipated. 

“Well,” Bruce said, with a sigh, “I suppose there isn’t much that can be said at this point. I’ll keep my eyes on you, but if we can’t stop you, I suppose that is the best we can do.”

Bruce turned to leave when suddenly, a voice piped up from the back,

“You can’t be serious, father.” Damian's voice sounded, “You are just going to leave him to run unchecked in your city.” 

Tim had to fight down the urge to snap back, knowing that he had been pushing his luck, talking back to the dark knight the way he had.

“Yes Robin. He has proved that he is here to stay, and he obviously has the mettle to hold his own. We will be keeping an eye on him. If he is in over his head, we will put a stop to it, if he does well…. We will see about ensuring he can stay updated. So, I don’t understand the issue.”

“I just don’t see any merit into letting this… Imposter run around our city. He should go and find his own city.” Tim couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of the word coming out of Damian’s mouth as he finally chimes in, most likely against the order of the rest of the bats. It really does seem like some things can’t be changed.

“Robin.” Bruce snaps out, “That’s enough.”

“What, it’s the truth. Red Robin is an outsider whom we know nothing about, and you are willing to not only let him stay, but actually plan on potentially working with him? It’s absurd and someone has to inform you about the absurdity of it.”

“C’mon Baby Bird,” Dick begins, but Tim doesn’t hear the end of it as his ears fuzz slightly, because…

Because that was his nickname. It had been his nickname ever since he became Robin, that’s just how it was. Dick was Big Bird, Jason was Little Wing, Damian was Baby Bat, and Tim… Tim was supposed to be Baby Bird. But here, in this timeline, there was no Tim to be given a nickname, so it must have fallen to Damian.

Tim knew he shouldn’t let it bother him. He tried to keep reminding himself that he asked for this. He caused this. But for some reason, it was the stupid nickname that he only sort of sometimes pretended to hate, that Dick would use when waking him up, or coaxing him to bed. That Jason used sporadically when he wanted something from Tim, or that one time when he and Tim were stopping a drug deal and a lucky shot almost caused Tim to bleed out. It was hearing _his_ nickname attached to Damian that caused the tight swell in his chest to crack and break his mask.

He didn’t know what emotions played across his face, but suddenly Dick was staring at him with such an open and honest look, Bruce and Damian both had these twin looks of confusion and an almost worried look, Jason had an almost calculating look on his face, and Tim was cursing himself for the slip of his mask.

“Are you ok there, Red?” And god, Dick’s voice was almost more open then his face was and so reminiscent of late nights after an emotional patrol sitting the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate that it was all Tim could do to not burst into tears right there, overrun with the strongest wave of homesickness yet.

“Yeah,” He managed, clearing his throat a couple times. “Just… Brothers, ya know? They can be a handful.”

“Oh. Do you have brothers?” Tim knew he was fishing for details but considering that his brothers are standing right in front of him and have no clue, he figured that this would keep them far away from the truth for a while longer.

“I had three. Two older, one younger. We didn’t always get along the best, but we were family.”

“Were?” The pain in Dick voice was palpable, and Tim could only imagine the worries for his own brothers going through his head at the moment. “What happened?”

Realizing this could be the only chance to explain why he did what he did to his family, Tim decided to just be as honest as he could. “It was better… Safer, for everyone if I just… Disappeared. And I wanted them to be happy. So, I removed myself from the equation.”

“But… They’re family… Haven’t they tried to find you?”

“No, Nightwing, they haven’t. I promise you; they don’t even remember me.” Tim replied, quiet acceptance and pain in his voice. Just because he knew why he did what he did, didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to see the results.

Dick made a wounded noise from the back of his throat, and Tim couldn't look at him anymore, not when he could imagine the exact look in his blue eye.

“Well…” Jason says, clearly a little uncomfortable and needing to find a way to dilute the emotions in the air, “let’s uhh… put a pin in that for now… Tell me kid, where did you get the name Red Robin?”

And Tim’s brain short circuited, because of all the answers he prepared, things he could use to throw them, this wasn’t something he prepared for. This wasn’t something he had planned for. And with the pain coursing through his chest at the moment, he just opened his mouth, and let the words tumble out, voice jumping up a couple of octaves.

“I uhh… I just… Really like their burgers?”

Everyone freezes, staring in wide eyed in disbelief at the absurdly obvious lie.

‘Well” Tim thinks ‘This has been fun.’

And he turns and throws himself off the side of the 60-story building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Who saw that coming? I did. Obviously, I wrote it forever ago. I just... You know those moments where you say something so dumb you want to throw yourself out a window? Well I let Tim do that! Don't worry, he caught himself, but boy am I sure that that was therapeutic for him.
> 
> Tell me, what do you guys think about Tim's little revelation? I'm curious. Do you like it? Do you think it will come back to bit him? Let me know, I love to hear from you guys! It feeds my little brain gremlin.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So… There is definitely something else to his name, isn’t there?” Jason spoke after a few moments of silence. “With a reaction like that, it can’t be it.”
> 
> “Really?” Dick asked, feeling sick to his stomach over what he learned, “Of everything that we just learned, _that_ is what you choose to focus on?”
> 
> -
> 
> The fallout of Tim's run in with the Bats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I meant to post this like... 4 days ago, but I am lazy. I do hope you can forgive me, and I hope you enjoy.

“So… There is definitely something else to his name, isn’t there?” Jason spoke after a few moments of silence. “With a reaction like that, it can’t be it.”

“Really?” Dick asked, feeling sick to his stomach over what he learned, “Of everything that we just learned, _that_ is what you choose to focus on?”

“Nightwing, Bluejay.” Bruce snaps out, sounding to all the world like he is angry, but they can hear the concealed pain behind the words, “Not here. You three can discuss this at the cave. I am going to finish patrol.”

“But Father,” Damian begins, “I can be of u-”

“No. You will be going back to the cave, no if ands or buts.” Bruce snaped. He then turned with a sweep of his cape and took off into the night.

All three boys on the roof looked at each other briefly.

“Don’t worry about it, Robin.” Dick says, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I think he just needs space to think. Don’t take it personally.

Damian just rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath before taking off into the night, Jason and Dick following close behind.

* * *

When they returned to the cave, Dick immediately pulled off his mask before sitting at the computer and pulling up Red Robin's profile to make some edits.

“That was… Intense…” Jay said, not bothering to hide the sadness in his voice now that they were at home.

“Yeah… I mean…” Dick trailed off, a far away look in his eye.

“I do not understand why you put so much stock into this.” Damian says, stripping away the layers of his suit and putting on his civvies before heading to one of the laptops set up for writing their post patrol reports, “It would not surprise me if he was lying to throw us off the trail of his identity.”

“You didn’t see the look he had about him, Baby Bird.” Dick said, thinking back to the reaction, the way the slip in his body movement that screamed of the pain, deep-seated and so absolute, at the prospect of his own brothers. Dick couldn’t imagine that, at his family being better off with him. He didn’t know him, not in any way that matters, but nothing he has done so far has in any way marked him as unlovable, or as a detriment to people around him. “He genuinely looked upset over the family that he lost. You can’t fake that level of pain. That kind of full body reaction. Not unless you can anticipate what might be said.”

Damian tutted slightly, but he seemed genuinely understanding of Dick’s words. “I suppose… But I still don’t trust him.”

“No one said you had to gremlin.” Jason said. “I don’t think anyone does. Kid’s too good for us not to be. Not to mention…”

Jason bit his lip, second guessing if he should say anything.

“What Jay?” Dick asks, concerned.

“I’m not the only one that feels like they know him, am I? Because it’s just… Uncanny…”

“I am afraid, in this one instance, you are not incorrect.” Damian begrudgingly replied. “There is a familiarity to Red Robin that is rather unsettling.”

“I think we just need to keep a close eye on him. I feel it too, but my gut is telling me that he isn’t going to hurt us.” Dick said, “He almost feels…”

“Safe.” Jason adds, and Dick nods in agreement, “Honestly, that’s the most unsettling part.”

* * *

Bruce found himself at the top of Wayne Enterprises, staring out over the city. Somewhere out there was a young vigilante who was hurting and hurting bad.

Bruce didn’t know what had happened to cause Red Robin to take up vigilante justice, but he knew from his own experiences that it likely wasn’t anything good. And given the way he talked about his family, not dead but forgetful of him.

Bruce sighed as he closed his eyes, thinking back to the case of another little boy. One who was forgotten in his own home by the people he was supposed to trust more than any other, then cast into a system that could never care for him and – from the extensive medical reports – left him with nearly as many scars as Bruce got in his first year.

He doesn’t know why the case of Timothy Drake had stuck with him so badly, or why he was remembering it right now, but Bruce wished, not for the first time, that he could find the boy and show him what a real home is like.

Bruce sighs again, before launching into the night to finish his patrol, leaving behind the thoughts of both Tim and Red Robin for the moment.

* * *

Tim was absolutely panicking this time.

He paced around his apartment, pulling out strands of hair and trying to remember how to breathe properly and shakily going over what had happened.

He finally let himself meet with the Bats, expecting… What? Them to recognize him? He knew that wouldn’t happen. That if they met out of costume they might have recognized him as _Timothy Jackson Drake: Missing Socialite,_ there would be no way for them to know him outside of that. Hell, he’s not even sure anyone would recognize him anyways. He knows he’s changed. But still…

He can’t deny that there is a part of him that wished they would see him and instinctively _know_ that they knew him, somehow. That there was something about him that caused them curiosity other than the simple fact that he was a new vigilante using a name that was 100% Bat with no affiliation to them.

Looking back on it, he almost wished he picked a different name before shaking away the thought. He uprooted his whole life. He deserved the simple comfort of a moniker that made him breathe a little easier.

With a sigh, Tim went to bed as the sun started to peak up over the city, closing his blinds and trying to ignore the hot trail of tears down his nose, and the plugged feeling of his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Here we have it! Look... I promise that I'm not always... Completely mean to Tim. Just.. You know... Normally.
> 
> He does get a break eventually. It's just... Not yet.
> 
> In other news, I have been asked about Cass' involvement in this story and where she is at, and while I would absolutely love to have her here because as much as I love her, Cass is the only person in the BatFam who possesses more then 1 brain cell and she would figure Tim out far too quickly, so for the purposes of this story she (in both the original timeline and this one) is on an extended deep undercover mission and can't be called upon unless it is life or death at the risk of her safety and identity. But she is fine and safe and her mission is going well.
> 
> I mainly don't think that's something I am going to work into this story so I wanted to let you all know.
> 
> Have a nice day, and feel free to feed my brain goblin with comments!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been a week, and he is now having his first run in with a rogue, and of course it happens to be Riddler. The guy seemed to seek him out in the other timeline, enjoying the fact that Tim could easily keep up with his riddles, and Tim has a feeling that it will be the same here. Which means when word get around that Red Robin can be go toe to toe with one rogue, the rest are sure to come test him out, and as much as he knows he can beat them all – he does after all know far far more about them then they would if him after all – he doesn’t like the idea of being tested.
> 
> -
> 
> Tim just wants 2 things in life at this moment. To go home and soak his bruises, and to not be quite so underestimated by the Riddler of all people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! It's a bit of a shorter chapter, but hopefully you guys still like it. The next one will be longer, I promise.

“Riddle me this, Red Robin.” Tim hears from the screen in front of him, and he can’t help but sigh a little.

It had been a week since his run in with the Bats and he had barely seen then since, and while it was nice to work within his own previews once more without having a Bat breathing down his neck – which mostly meant he could be a little more direct when taking down criminals, which mostly meant he used a lot more force – Tim missed the steady presence at his back. He missed the easy way to check in on his family.

But back to the matter at hand. It had been a week, and he is now having his first run in with a rogue, and of course it happens to be Riddler. The guy seemed to seek him out in the other timeline, enjoying the fact that Tim could easily keep up with his riddles, and Tim has a feeling that it will be the same here. Which means when word get around that Red Robin can be go toe to toe with one rogue, the rest are sure to come test him out, and as much as he knows he can beat them all – he does after all know far far more about them then they would if him after all – he doesn’t like the idea of being tested.

“The more you take, the more you leave behind. What am I?” Tim wanted to roll his eyes at the simple riddle. He knew it was a warmup, to gauge his ability, but he still felt a little insulted by the simplicity of it, and really just wanted to find the hostages.

“Footsteps.” He replied immediately, doing his best to hold back the scoff at the far too simple question.

“So the little birdy knows the basics. Okay then, moving on! Riddle me this - What 8 letter word can have a letter taken away and it still makes a word. Take another letter away and it still makes a word. Keep on doing that until you have one letter left. What is the word?”

A harder one, Tim would give him that, but one he’s solved before.

“Starting.” Tim says, as he hears the silent entrance of a couple of Bats, Bruce and Dick if he had to wager a guess, but he pays them no mind. “Take away the second t and you get staring, Take the a and you’re left with string, take the r – sting, t – sing, g – sin, s – in, and finally, take the n and you are left with I. Look, I get what you are doing, you wanna test me and everything, but I have had a very long night and I would love it if you just gave me the location riddle so I can get them, stop you and go home. Some thug hit me with a pipe early and I’d like to soak the bruises if you don’t mind. We can do this back and forth another time.”

Judging by the restrained snort behind him, Tim had been correct about Dick.

“Oh great. A smart one, but you are just as uptight as the Bat. The Riddle did seem genuinely bummed about this, but Tim hadn’t been lying about the long night, and Riddler was holding 12 people hostage, so he couldn’t really bring himself to feel that bad about it. “Here is the riddle: I am somewhere down far below, where you will find that no light goes. Here, all man can do is hack, until the last shiny things on track. What am I? You have 30 minutes. Have fun.”

The feed then cut out and a timer replaced where the Riddler was, counting down from thirty. Turning to face the others he began to pace. He recognized the riddle, was sure it was one he knew, but the answer was evading him. Looking at Bruce and Dick they both seemed to be a bit lost as well.

“Down far below, where you will find no light goes, so it’s under ground,” Tim begins speaking to himself as he slides past the two Bats with barely a glance and begins to pace. “That means it’s likely a cave of sorts, but that’s too broad… So the last shiny thing probably means a cave system with some kind of gems…”

He trails off. Gotham has a handful of old crystal mines, and Tim knew that those fit the three boxes, but the hacking line didn’t fit because you had to be more delicate with the gems. Tim thought hard about what other areas would make sense.

Pausing, he turned to Bruce and Dick, who were both just staring at him.

“I know where the hostages are.” Tim tells them. “Can I trust you two to go get them while I take care of the Riddler?”

“You figured it out? It’s been like 2 seconds!” Dick exclaimed.

Casting a look at the time, Tim corrects him.

“It’s been 3 and a half minutes. Besides, when it gets down to it, it is not that difficult. I think he’s going easy on me so he can test me.” Tim shakes his head, annoyed that everyone is underestimating him. “He’s likely got them in Gotham’s old copper mine. The shiny line was a little off, because that would be more gold, but New Jersey isn’t much for gold. Copper can be shiny in the right conditions though, so I guess it’s close enough.”

Dick just kind of stares at him for a moment.

“What? Is there an issue in my logic? Did I miss something? I’m fairly certain I’m right, aren’t I, Batman?” Tim slid his eyes over to where Bruce stood, staring intently, and watched him nod, feeling the knot of uncertainty unravel in his chest. “Ok, good. Then you guys go get the hostages. He won’t be expecting me, and I can get the drop on him.”

Tim turns, planning to exit to get to the Riddler before they can argue.

“But wait! How?” Dick exclaims, and Tim can’t help but curse himself for the instinctive stop at the words. “How did you figure it out so quickly? And how would you even know where to find Riddler?”

“Well, finding the Riddler was easy. I set a tracking program to run the moment the video feed started, so I had his location pretty quick. Which I am going to go to now to stop him. You two should go get the hostages. I’m sure they will respond better to some familiar, and I really do want to get home and soak my bruises before passing out for a few hours.” With that Tim turned and left the room, only just glancing back to call out a simple, “And riddles are a good way to keep the mind sharp, maybe you should give it a try.”

He strolled out of the room, smiling at the indignant “hey” from behind him, and took off into the night. It didn’t take him long to get to where the rogue was hiding.

The Riddler wasn’t hiding out anywhere big or important, just a hole in the wall with a decent computer setup that Riddler was currently attempting to disassemble as Tim silently slipped in through the window.

“Riddle me this.” He says, slipping lower into the Red Robin voice, smirking at the way Riddler jumped and spun around to see him. “What is black and red and not to be underestimated?”

“Red Robin.” His eyes are wide, obviously not expecting to see him at the hideout, but he composes himself rather quickly. “If you are referring to yourself, I have to say I can’t agree. You wouldn’t be here unless you had no clue what the answer is and have come looking for it.”

He seems so sure and certain of himself and Tim feels great pleasure at the idea of taking him down a peg.

“Oh no, the answer was a gold mine, but as Gotham doesn’t have one of those it’s obviously the old copper mine. Batman and Nightwing are on route to save them.” He smirks a little, “I’m here to make sure you don’t get away.”

And then he lashes out, swinging in a wide arch as he opens his bo staff. He doesn’t quite make contact, as the Riddler pulls back out of the way, and then they are off.

The room is small enough to hinder Tim’s bo, making it a little more difficult, but not unusable, and Riddler was using it to his advantage, keeping close to walls to help block the staff. Eventually though, he seemed to notice that there was very little way for him to win, and as such he made a dive for the door. The move caught Tim a little off guard, but he swung out, catching the Riddler’s ankle and tripping him. He then grabs him by the back of the neon green suit and pushes down hard in the middle of his shoulder blade.

“It was a good shot; I will give you that.” Tim tells him as he pulls out some zip ties and restrains him. “But I guess I’m just better.”

With that, he brings his staff down on his head, knocking him out, and then calls the police, waiting just long enough for them to get on scene for taking off into the night.

He was sore and he really just wanted to get home and sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sgorter end note then normal. There are no problems, I am just very tired and my brain is mush, but I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I love all of you, and feel free to leave a comment to feel the brain goblin!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim had been to Leslie’s clinic a handful of times in this timeline. He was fairly certain that the woman had, at some point, realized that the name and address he gave were fake, but never said anything, so Tim kept coming back, and she never probed deeper.
> 
> Since getting here himself, Tim hadn’t gone. Too many nerves at seeing Leslie and acting the way he was expected to. But he knew this was actually a matter that could kill him, so he sucked it up and walked in the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Last chapter was the closest you get to fluff... I am so sorry...
> 
> Also, I updated the tags, but just to be safe,
> 
> TW  
> Past/Referenced Child Abuse.  
> Discussion of Medical Procedures
> 
> It's not super graphic or detailed, but it's... not great and I felt very bad writing it.

Tim wakes to a rush of pain shooting through his gut. For several long seconds all he could see were bursts of stars across his vision.

And then he felt nausea.

Getting up caused more stars to burst across his vision but he managed to stumble his way to the bathroom just in time.

“Great,” Tim thought to himself, as he finally finished vomiting. “I did not need to have to clean that up.”

It had been mostly stomach acid, making Tim wonder briefly when the last time he ate had been, but that was overshadowed by the bright red he noticed. Quickly assessing through a mental checklist, he tried to figure out what it was as he tried to convince himself to get up, only to pause when he realized the likelihood of what had happened.

Appendicitis.

Back before, Tim had gotten his appendix out not long after he became Robin after a particularly nasty hit to the side, which – thinking back on it – was pretty much exactly what happened last night, as images of a lead pipe and a lucky hit blended with a 2 by 4 and a deliberate hold and I’m sorry Batman, I’ll do better next time and –

Nope.

That was enough of that.

Back in the here and now Tim ran through his option. He didn’t have the emergency funds set aside enough for a regular hospital, and this wasn’t something he could do himself, which left only one option.

Pulling himself off the ground finally, Tim walked to the door, pulling on shoes, and walking downstairs while pushing aside the stars in his eye, and began down the street.

* * *

Tim had been to Leslie’s clinic a handful of times in this timeline. He was fairly certain that the woman had, at some point, realized that the name and address he gave were fake, but never said anything, so Tim kept coming back, and she never probed deeper.

Since getting here himself, Tim hadn’t gone. Too many nerves at seeing Leslie and acting the way he was expected to. But he knew this was actually a matter that could kill him, so he sucked it up and walked in the door.

“Hi, what can I help you with?” Asked the kind, if not frazzled, secretary at the front desk, not looking up from the files she was sorting.

“Uh, hi…” Tim begins, suddenly feeling nervous, and breathing through a spike of pain, “I have been having really bad pain in my abdomen, and I vomited a little blood… I think it might be my appendix, but it could also be a bunch of other things… I just figured I would get it checked out, if possible.”

Looking up, the secretary took in his, admittedly haggard looking, appearance, and her eyes widened. Suddenly, Tim wished he had looked in the mirror before he left. Luckily for him, however he looked must have put him at an advantage.

“Yes, right this way, can I get a name? Do you have a file here?” Her voice was the kind of calm that was used to hide concern, but Tim knew how bad this could be, and he knew that she intended to keep him calm and he appreciated it nonetheless.

“I do. It should be under Tomas Fink.” He told her, quickly scanning his memories for details he may need.

“I will go see if I can find it, can you fill this out. Dr. Tomkins should be in shortly.”

“Thank you.” Taking the clipboard handed to him, he began to fill it out as well as he could, knowing there were just some things that he didn’t know. After a few moments, the door opened and in walked Leslie. Tim found himself struck with the same feeling from the rooftop with the Bats, a dull ache that he quickly stamped down.

“Tommy, hello, it’s been a bit.” Leslie says, her voice as open and kind as always.

“Only 6 months.” Tim replied, “I was under the impressions that you wouldn’t really want to see patients that often.”

“That’s fair.” There is a soft smile on her face and Tim can’t help but brighten a little at the sight. “Now, I’ve been told that you are here for abdominal pain, you think it’s your appendix?”

“Yeah… Well, I don’t know if it’s my appendix, but I was a little worried this morning so I… I may have googled my symptoms.” He pushed a blush onto his face, as if he was embarrassed to admit this to the doctor. “I know, I shouldn’t do that, that there are a ton of other things it could be other than appendicitis, and I shouldn’t have done that because I can’t really know but…”

Tim cast his eyes to the side, he ended his rambling with a small laugh, as he trailed off. To his credit, Leslie just laughed a little, shaking her head.

“I expected nothing less Tommy. Now, how about you take off your shirt and lay down and we take a look.” She gestured for Tim to do so as she turned to ready some equipment. Swallowing nervously, he did just that. “Ok, so let’s take a loo-“

She cut herself off with a gasp and looking at the frankly impressive bruise stretching up the left side of his body, Tim couldn’t help but also be shocked. Last night it hadn’t looked great, but now, after hours of developing, the bruise was a brilliant array of blues, purples, blacks, and molten yellows around the edge.

It also stretched from his hip to halfway up his rib cage.

Stupid thugs, with their stupid pipes, and their stupid lucky hits.

“Tommy… How did you get this?” Leslie’s voice came out strangled. Which is odd, because she sometimes works on vigilantes, and vigilantes almost always look worse than this is they are actually coming to the doctor. Granted… She didn’t know Tim was a vigilante. But she also worked in Crime Alley, running a free clinic. There is no way he is the worst she’s seen.

“Last night I was out.” He begins, relaying the lie he had come up with earlier, “I got held up for some cash… They uh… They didn’t like that I didn’t have anything on me. I tried to run, but someone managed to get a lucky hit with a pipe.”

Leslie looked at him contemplatively, before gesturing to him to lie down. She warns him softly when she goes to pull the gel on his stomach, then again when she goes to run the wand over the area. Tim just breathes through it, and let’s her do her work.

“Tommy, your appendix is very close to bursting! You must have been in pain for a while, why didn’t you come here immediately?” Leslie somehow manages to sound both as if she is concerned for Tim and berating him at once. The common tone she takes with everyone in the business, and Tim fights down a smile, reminding himself that this isn’t the time.

“Well, at first I thought it was just the bruise, so I soaked myself in a hot bat and went to bed, it wasn’t ‘til I got up this morning that I realized it was worse than it should be.” Tim says with a shrug, “Besides, I know how to deal with pain. This isn’t that bad.”

That might not have been the best thing to say, Tim decides, looking at Leslie’s very worried face.

“Really! It’s no big deal!” He tries to sooth, “Well, it is, because we should probably get the appendix out of me… But like! The dealing with pain thing! I promise! I just get pretty roughed up often by people! It’s nothing!”

Tim regrets ever opening his big fat mouth. He wanted the floor to swallow him. He wanted to dive out a window. He was supposed to be a good liar!

“Ok… We can come back to this later… This needs surgery though. Is one of your parents able to sign off on it.”

Tim felt a bolt of fear go through him.

“Would you believe me if I said I’d been lying to you the whole time and was actually 18?” Tim sighed at the unimpressed look he was being given, and sighed, “No, neither of them can sign off on it.”

“Tommy… I need you to be honest with me. Did… Did you get this bruise at home?”

“No, I really did get them while I was out… Working.” Tim explained, knowing she would probably draw the same conclusion everyone else did about their jobs. “And mom and dad can’t sign off because they ain’t around anymore, and if you can’t do this without their permission, or if you gotta call social services, then I’m sorry, I think I’ll just be heading out.”

There was a resignation to him, and Tim realized with a shock that he really was more willing to walk out of here, where he would most certainly die of sepsis, then he was to go back to the system.

“Tommy…” Leslie seemed to be searching for the right words and floundering slightly. “I know the system is scary, but it’s not all bad. I’m sure they would have no problem finding a good ho-”

“With all due respect Dr.Tomkins, I know what the system is like. I know what it was like for me. I know I am better off without it. You know why?” Tim begins gesturing to a cluster of intertwined scars on his shoulder, he doesn’t know where this is coming from, but it feels good. Really really good. To finally say it out loud. “You see this scar? I was 14. It was a good house. Nice neighbourhood. Then at night, he started drinking, and she went out with people. I got this from ‘tripping’ through a glass door I got pushed through.” He gestures to one by his neck. “This one? Also 14. She lost his grip on the belt and the metal caught me. She kept going. She was also nice. A daytime nurse.” The next is 4 jagged scars under his right pec. “I was 15. Nice guy. Worked at an animal shelter. Put me in a dog fighting ring, then lied and said I was attacked by an aggressive dog at the shelter that got loose.” He points to his wrists next. “She wanted more antidepressants, felt terrible when she came and found me ‘cutting’ in my room because I was just so sad about my parents, surely the antidepressants would help, except for the fact that I was 15 when she tied me down and gave me most of them.” Over and over he points to different scars, giving their stories, “He was mad I couldn’t give him power. I was too quiet for them. Too loud for them. I was too jaded, too scared, too nice, too mean, couldn’t get access to my trust fund, over and over! If I was lucky I would get ignored! I would get locked in a room and starved! But if I wasn’t? I’m too scared to go anywhere I might need to take off my shirt, to go to the beach, to the pool! I bulk up to hide it because I got myself out by the skin of my teeth, if anyone so much as mentions me to social services, I’d go right back in!” Tim was aware he was saying too much, that he was confirming that he lied about who he was and giving away far too much that could give away who he was, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t see through his tears, and the pain was trying to stay apparent, and he was _tired_.

“Tommy-” Leslie began

“No, Dr. Tompkins.” Tim kind of just slumped in on himself. “You don’t understand. If you knew who I was, you would understand why I’d be a high priority for CPS to make sure they got back, and that they would make sure I’d never get back out. And I’d rather let this stupid organ kill me then ever have to go back.”

“Let me finish please.” Leslie was firm this time, so Tim stayed quiet. “You’re right. The system sucks. But for a lot of kids it’s better then the streets. I thought you would be one of them, but you aren’t. I’m sorry for trying to push, but I’m also not going to just let you die.”

Tim looked up, wide-eyed and shocked.

“R-really? You aren’t… You aren’t just saying that to get me under and then calling them anyways?”

“No, Tommy. I’m not.” Leslie says. “But I am going to have to insist that you stay here for a bit to let me monitor the wound, then then you have to promise to come back once a week for at least a month just to be safe. You don’t have anyone at home to watch this, so you have to be diligent to watch it, and to let me make sure you don’t die. You have a bright future ahead; I can see it in your eyes. Let me make sure you can get there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. That was just straight up mean to Tim. He deserves better. Athor is very very mean and very very sorry.
> 
> Also, I know that that is not how appendicitis works, a blow to the stomach would not do that to the your appendix, but I wrote that late at night and was too lazy to google it, then afterwards I didn't feel like fixing it. 
> 
> I was originally going to take his spleen, but then I felt bad because he deserves to at least keep his spleen, one positive for this timeline for him, so bad medical science.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m going to get you to count backwards from 10 for me, ok sweetie?” The anesthesiologist – a young resident named Ruth – has a slight southern drawl and Tim wonders why she would choose Gotham of all places when she seemed to be so… bright. “By the time you reach 1 you gonna be out like a light and then you’ll wake up with one less organ, but don’t you dare start to worry. It don’t really do much in there.”
> 
> “And I suppose it won’t do anything at all when it’s out.” Tim forces the words out casually, “Because that would probably signal like… an apocalypse of some kind, wouldn’t it?”
> 
> Ruth laughed at that. “Oh my, you are such a racket.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I have been gone so long, I have no excuses other then I just... Hadn't realized how long it had been, so to make it up to you, I am going to give you another post either later today or tomorrow. 
> 
> TW  
> more medical procedures get discussed

Surgery wasn’t that scary for Tim. He had had it a ton of times before in much less ideal circumstances – a certain splenectomy came to mind – so getting his appendix out – for the second time – was surprisingly not what was scary.

Yeah, he knows Leslie would probably keep her word, but he was terrified of what would happen if she didn’t. He couldn’t go back in the system. It was somehow a more daunting task then going up against the entire rogue gallery combined.

“Ok Tommy, I’m going to get you to count backwards from 10 for me, ok sweetie?” The anesthesiologist – a young resident named Ruth – has a slight southern drawl and Tim wonders why she would choose Gotham of all places when she seemed to be so… bright. “By the time you reach 1 you gonna be out like a light and then you’ll wake up with one less organ, but don’t you dare start to worry. It don’t really do much in there.”

“And I suppose it won’t do anything at all when it’s out.” Tim forces the words out casually, “Because that would probably signal like… an apocalypse of some kind, wouldn’t it?”

Ruth laughed at that. “Oh my, you are such a racket.”

Just then Leslie enters and gives time a soft smile.

“Ready to go Tommy?”

“As ready as can be.”

“Perfect,” Leslie takes a quick look at his vitals once more. “Whenever you are ready, Ruth.”

“Ok sweetie, down from ten.” She told Tim as she started to push in the stopper.

“10. 9.. 8… 7….”

And Tim’s world went back before he could get to 1.

* * *

Tim gasped lightly as he looked around. It was dark, but not just normal darkness, the oppressive kind, that pushed him down and held him, cutting air off from his lungs and leaving his eyes strained and watering, looking for any light he could.

“Hello.” He called out tentatively. “Anyone?”

“Hello Timothy.” A voice says from behind him. Whirling around, he comes face to face with Dick.

“Dick!” Tim cries, noticing as the oppressive black fades into the normal dark of the cave, and Tim feels his chest loosen a little. “I’m so glad to see you again!”

“We need to talk. Follow me.” Dick’s voice was a steel blade of intent. Cold and sharp, and oh so ready to cut Tim down. Swallowing, Tim just nodded and followed his brother down to a row of cells they kept in the cave in the event that someone from an evil universe decided to pop by and they couldn’t keep/get them to the watch tower for some reason. They stopped outside of a cell, and Tim just looked at Dick.

“Uhh… What are we…” Tim cleared his throat, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he started again “What are we doing here Dick?”

“Something that should have been done a long time ago.” And that was all the warning Tim got before Dick had Tim twisted in a hold and marched into the cell and chained up.

“D-Dick!” Tim yelped, “What are you- What is going on?”

“You are a danger. A hazard to Gotham,” Dick’s voice was so filled with conviction that for a minute, Tim didn’t know what to do with it, with the words being spat at him with such venom. “Not only that, but you pose a threat to our family. And what with your crazy time travel nonsense? Danger is putting it nicely”

“Wh-what? N-no!” Tim said, trying to pull out of the chain, but it was no use. They were built to withstand the strength of an evil Superman. “N-no, Dick! I- I did that to help! Please, you have to believe me!”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you think you had noble intentions. But then abusing the power to reinsert yourself into our lives?” The coolness in Dicks voice was worse than anger. Tim knew anger, made his living fighting back against it. But this cold calm that Dick had going on. The detached certainty in his voice, he knew this to be true and there was no changing his mind.

“You are a selfish person Tim. And nothing will ever change that.”

And Tim… Shattered. He watched detached as Dick walked away, as if he didn’t just destroy time with two simple sentences.

* * *

Tim doesn’t know how long it is before he hears footsteps outside his cell, only to look up and see Jason standing there, holding a cigarette.

“You know,” He begins, taking a long pull and releasing the grey-white smoke, watching it curl briefly in a beautiful dance up to the ceiling. “I didn’t think you had it in you, replacement. But you did the one thing I never thought you’d have the balls to do.”

Tim just blinked at him for a moment, his emotions still uncomfortably numb after Dick’s earlier accusations.

“If you are here to berate me Jason, just get it over with. I don’t… I don’t care. Not anymore.”

“Nah. I’m here to thank you.”

Now _that_ had Tim’s attention, pushing back against that all oppressive numbness, a slight hope cautiously warming him.

“Wh-what?”

“I’m here to thank you. You did what I never thought you would have the balls for.” Jason took another drag of the white-grey dancing smoke, blowing it out with a smirk. “You took yourself out of the equation in a way that makes you obsolete.”

Tim stammered and stuttered for a minute, letting the words hang between them as he tried to think of something – anything to say.

“Of course, you have made steps to destroying it, but it’s only a matter of time until we see your true colours.” The words are said so casually, as if Jason was commenting on the weather and not Tim’s latent ability to destroy everything. “Besides, the only reason we haven’t done anything is because we don’t know how dangerous you are.”

“I- I’m not dangerous! Not to you guys! Never to you guys!” Tim protests; eyes wide and the pain the numbness had been hiding overtakes his heart again.

“Yes Drake,” Tim flinches as Damian comes to the edge of his cell, eyes glaring darkly at him, “Because all the knowledge in your head, the weaknesses you know of use that you have made us forget. Totally not dangerous at all.”

Tim can’t help but flinch back at the words.

“N-no, I- That’s not-” he was aware he was sputtering, but unable to stop the half-aborted words from filling his throat and tumbling out in a messy heap in the air around them.

“So you are telling us that you never once used the knowledge of us to your advantage.” Damian questioned, “Normally I would commend the one who could use that sort of knowledge to their advantage, but you are but a coward and does not deserve the respect. You are lucky we are kind enough to keep you locked up here.”

Before Tim can respond, Damian and Jason both leave. Or maybe they just faded away, the way everything else in here had begun to do. But Tim finds those words echoing in his ears as darkness overtakes him once more.

* * *

Tim comes to groggily. There, sitting beside him, is Leslie, who smiles gently when she notices his eyes open.

“Hi Tommy, welcome back. How was your nap.” The tone is low and soothing, and Tim sinks into the warmth of them as he replies.

“Not bad. I thought I had a dream but I… I can’t seem to remember what it was about.”

“That’s normal. Don’t worry too much.” She says kindly, “Everything went well, there was no complication, and you are now down an appendix.”

“Better than a spleen.” He mumbles, a slight smile crossing his lips at the joke only her understands as he allows himself to sink back into the fuzzy feelings in his head.

“Yeah, better than losing a spleen.” Leslie says with an amused shake of the head, likely just putting it down to the painkillers coursing through his blood stream. “Go back you sleep. You have to stay overnight for observations anyway.”

Tim tries to make a noise or comment of acceptance, but as he falls back asleep he can’t be sure if he actually did or not.

Tim didn’t have any more dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I really can't be nice to Tim can I... I do feel bad about it, and hey! At least this time he doesn't remember me being mean to him!
> 
> Next chapter will be... Not fluff... But it won't be angst either! So that's good!
> 
> Anyways, stay safe everyone! And feel free to leave a comment! I love hearing from you guys!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Welcome back kid.” He hears as he lands on a roof, two hours into patrol. “We were starting to wonder if you had died.”
> 
> “Good guess, but no. You will find I am extremely healthy and back in fighting condition.” He quipped back, turning to face Bluejay and Nightwing.
> 
> “Are you really? Because I hear you were smacked with a lead pipe.” Dick says, looking genuinely concerned, and Tim kind of wants to hate it. They aren’t brothers. He doesn’t need it.
> 
> But Tim is a sucker, and so he doesn’t actually hate it.
> 
> “Yeah, that is kinda the reason I was gone.” He replies, “But I am back in fighting condition and only down an appendix, and really… Who needs those?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all! This is the second update in as many days, please make sure to go back and read chapter 10 first, just so you don't miss anything!
> 
> Second! Last update of 2020! You guys don't understand how great this has for me! I posted this originally thinking maybe a handful of people would read it, maybe a couple of comments every chapter or so, but you guys! The response to this has been better then I could even have imagined, and I hope you continue to enjoy it as I continue to write it in 2021!

Tim took the next 6 weeks off. Went into the clinic when Leslie said, but other then that he spent the rest of his time at home. He wished he could say it was relaxing, but honestly, Tim hated it, so when he finally got the all clear from Leslie to resume all of his normal activity he suited up and was back on the streets that night. He knew it would probably make at least Leslie suspicious, but he figured she was smart enough to figure it out eventually, if she hadn’t yet.

He just didn’t anticipate being immediately ambushed by the Bats.

“Welcome back kid.” He hears as he lands on a roof, two hours into patrol. “We were starting to wonder if you had died.”

“Good guess, but no. You will find I am extremely healthy and back in fighting condition.” He quipped back, turning to face Bluejay and Nightwing.

“Are you really? Because I hear you were smacked with a lead pipe.” Dick says, looking genuinely concerned, and Tim kind of wants to hate it. They aren’t brothers. He doesn’t need it.

But Tim is a sucker, and so he doesn’t actually hate it.

“Yeah, that is kinda the reason I was gone.” He replies, “But I am back in fighting condition and only down an appendix, and really… Who needs those?”

“You... Lost your appendix?” Bluejay asks, shock colouring his voice.

“I mean yeah. But it could have been worse.” He said with a shrug.

“You lost an organ? How could it have been worse?” He sounded indignant, and Tim had to stamp down a snort at the tone.

“I could have lost something important. Like a spleen.” Tim actually did snort at that, wondering briefly about his mental state if he was making jokes about something genuinely traumatic that had happened, before deciding that if he was the kind of person who considered vigilantism to be a source of stability then surely the issue was beyond help.

“That is your defence? That it wasn’t a spleen, so it wasn’t bad?” Nightwing strangled out. “What does that even mean? Have you lost your spleen? Was it injured? Do you have a spleen?”

Tim felt a little bad about his words now, realizing that this was a different set of people, with different lives, whose senses of humour likely weren’t as warped as his had become over the years.

“No, no,” Tim tells them, “I still have my spleen, and hopefully, by the time the rogue gallery is done testing me, then maybe it will still be there.”

They share a look, words passing without lips and Tim has the realization that those different lives meant that he couldn’t read them like he used to.

“Testing you?” Bluejay ventures.

“Well yeah. I knew a new player that no one knows. No affiliation to your little clan. Unknown skill levels, and he seemed to come out of nowhere. Everyone will be clamouring, I am sure.” Tim explains with a raised eyebrow, bubbles are irritation raising up as well. “What do you think the Riddler was doing? And do you really think that that is all that will be done? That one little test is going to be enough for them?

“I am the hottest commodity on the streets, so I would like to get on with my patrol and keep an eye out for my people, and I would really like it if you guys got off my case and stopped pretending to care. You aren’t my family, we aren’t friends. Hell, we are barely even colleagues.” Tim didn’t know where these words were coming from, but he knew, as well as the sky in Gotham was almost never blue, that he meant them. He needed this, to push away the feelings of family he felt for these people who’ve never actually met him. “I know that it is in your nature to care, none of us would be doing this if it wasn’t but do me a favour and try not to care for me so much. I’m not the person who deserves it.”

As Tim turned around and left his ex-brothers on the roof, he just wished it didn’t hurt so much to do.

* * *

“He’s hiding something.” Jason said as they watched Red Robin disappear into the Gotham skyline. “I don’t know what it is, but it is big.”

“B does think he could have something to do with the time travel thing, so maybe we knew him before. It would explain a lot.” Dick replied, a feeling in his gut yelling at him to follow the vigilante and make sure he was ok.

“It could be why he seems so adamant on keeping a distance. Why didn't he freak when B gave him the stare.”

“True. Could be trying to convince himself that he doesn’t trust us the way his gut is telling us too, I mean, if he was feeling it too. It would explain the name.”

“You don’t think that he…” Dick trailed off, eyes roaming the buildings around them.

“No way. From the three whole conversations I have had with the kid… I can’t imagine he has a great life here, and if he was B’s in another timeline, I can’t imagine changing that.” Jason tells him. “Sure, he sucks at emotions, but he’s a good dad. I don’t see why he would give it up…”

“I don’t know, we've had some pretty bad fights over the years. Maybe they had one too many bad one and he decided to go back? Maybe he saved his parents and B didn’t have to take him in.” There was a connection between the time travel event and Red Robin, Dick could feel it, but he didn’t seem to be doing anything of harm, so he figured he wasn’t up to anything bad. “I know there were a few fights where if I had had the ability to change time and not be B’s kid, I’d have done it.”

“Maybe.” Jason is pensive, mulling it over, “But I’m going to go out on a limb and say that a kid with alive parents and a stable life wouldn’t choose to become a vigilante, so I’m guessing it’s not so great. So why wouldn’t he go back and fix it?”

“Don’t know.” Dick says, “But you’re probably right. He probably has nothing to do with it.”

Dick looks back at Jason, then the sky, and notices the Batsignal.

“Well, likely nothing direct.” He amends. “Come on, lets see what that’s about.”

Once he was sure Jason was following behind him, Dick took off, pushing off the thoughts of the conversation for the moment. He could always come back to it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... It's not fluff... But it's not... Not fluff? And! More Wayne interactions! Yay!
> 
> I do want to apologize because it is a little shorter then most of my chapters, but the next two are longer - I believe - so hopeful you guys don't mind too much!!!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed! If you feel like it, leave a comment, if not, I hope to see you in the next update!!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a shrug, Tim got dressed and left his apartment to grab food from the store. On the way out, he ran into Mrs. Kalden, the nice older lady who lived three doors down and got him to watch her cats sometimes. She was nice, Tim knew she did it to try and keep him “off the streets” as much as possible, since everyone on Tim’s floor has seemed to come to the conclusion that Tim was out selling himself for cash – which, considering Tim’s odd hours, the fact he doesn’t go to school, and the bruises he gets from both Swan Song and Red Robin business, it a fairly reasonable conclusion.
> 
> "Oh Timmy!” She says, her voice was a little reedy, but soothing nonetheless, “What are you doing out and about?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have been very mean to Tim this whole story so far. So I wrote some... Fluff? It's not fluff, but it's also not angst. The boy gets a break and doesn't get hurt, so it's point in the not-mean-to-Tim column! Be proud!

Tim was having a pretty good day, all things considered. He had slept for almost 6 hours, and as such, he had a lot of energy, so he found. So much so that he finished two of his projects in his swan song folder and had finished work on the case for Red Robin. He checked his now fully healed scar for residual damage, after which he went to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat and realized he had nothing.

Thinking back, he vaguely recalled going to grab food… yesterday? The day before? It didn’t matter when, he just remembers having grabbed the last of what was in his cupboard and needing to grab more. Casting a brief glance at his emergency bag, he figured it was best to go out and grab food, lest he actually need the food stores for an emergency and forgot to replenish it.

So with a shrug, Tim got dressed and left his apartment to grab food from the store. On the way out, he ran into Mrs. Kalden, the nice older lady who lived three doors down and got him to watch her cats sometimes. She was nice, Tim knew she did it to try and keep him “off the streets” as much as possible, since everyone on Tim’s floor has seemed to come to the conclusion that Tim was out selling himself for cash – which, considering Tim’s odd hours, the fact he doesn’t go to school, and the bruises he gets from both Swan Song and Red Robin business, it a fairly reasonable conclusion.

“Oh Timmy!” She says, her voice was a little reedy, but soothing nonetheless, “What are you doing out and about?”

“Hi Mrs. Kalden!” Tim says, pushing forward some childishness in his voice, making himself a little more excited. It was a defense he started up when he had first moved in, bright smiles and a hint of childish wonder. He slipped sometimes, and he was sure some people realized it was a front, but he was pretty sure it fed into their belief that he did _something_ no child, even a 17-year-old as himself, should be doing and used that as a shield. He let them believe that too. “I was just about to head to the store! We need some groceries, so I’m out to get them.”

“Well aren’t you all grown up and mature.” There was an edge to her voice, and Tim knew it was likely going to end with an offer to watch her cats some point in the next few days.

“Mrs. Kalden, I’m 17. It is not that shocking that I can be trusted to go buy groceries.” He replies, letting a light dusting of red coat his cheeks, making him look like he is embarrassed by the complement. It’s far easier than he would think.

“Well I suppose not. I always forget how old you are now. You are far too small, and that surgery the other week…” She says, frowning as she reaches out to ruffle his hair. Tim ducks down in an attempt to get out of the way of the hand but can’t quite manage it.

“Mrs. Kalden!” He lets a slight whine enter his voice, “My hair!”

Tim knows he was successful when he watches her smile at him.

“Well, I suppose I should let you be off. Be careful, it’s dangerous out there.” There is a caring edge to her voice and Tim can’t help but let himself genuinely smile at the nice feeling in his chest.

“I know Mrs. Kalden! Don’t worry! I always am!” He tells her, turning to leave with his hand in his pocket, just resting on the collapsed staff and the knife he carries with him, as he turns to head down the stairs.

“And I may need you to watch the cats on Friday night.” She calls after him.

“I should be free!” He calls back.

‘Predictable, but nice.’ He thinks as he reaches the streets.

* * *

The journey to and from the store is uneventful. He grabs some canned and boxed foods, along with a couple of jars of coffee beans that are on sale at them moment – the good locally sourced kind too – and heads off home, stopping briefly to pick up some pizza on the way home, after a quick check with his budget to be sure he’s be fine.

He returns to his rundown apartment building and makes his way up stairs, waving and saying hello to a few of the other tenants in the building who try to watch out for him, and enters his apartment. Quickly putting everything away, he grabs his laptop and pulls it into the TV and starts up some so-bad-it’s-good detective show set in the 20s that Tim found the funniest thing in the world due to the inconsistencies.

Watching a couple of episodes, Tim felt better than he had in a bit. Sure he had to stamp down the occasional dull ache when his brain supplied comments that Bruce or his brothers might make at some of the stupider leaps in logic, but he was content, and his abdomen finally wasn’t hurting the way it had been in recent weeks.

After the two episodes, the alarm he had set went off, so he cleared the little bit of the mess he made, and turned off the TV, moving his laptop back to his desk drawer, and suited up.

Tonight would be a good night, he decided.

* * *

If Tim had that any idea that _this_ is how his night would end, he wouldn’t have gone out. Or at least, he would have ignored Scarecrow in favour of someone who was less a pain in the ass.

God he wished he had been wrong about being tested.

His night had started out normally, Tim made his rounds of Crime Alley, before slipping out to check the data he had of Scarecrows movements. He had then made his way back to Crime Alley and had been planning on doing another round or two before slipping home to send the information to either Gordan or Bruce, depending on if he found the actual main hideout, or just supply movement.

As it is, that plan was fucked over almost immediately when he ran into Scarecrow trying to abduct some civilians to use as test subjects from _Tim’s territory._

He managed to get the people away, leaving himself, Scarecrow, and a handful of goons, none of which worried him. Tim was still relatively new, his skill mostly unknown – aided by the fact that he stuck to his territory and didn’t tend to get into altercations out of his bubble – and the fact that he is willing to be a little more morally grey in fighting tactic then the Bats of this timeline. But he hadn’t expected Scarecrow to be planning on him specifically. Stupid, considering that he had literally come to the area protected by Red Robin and the fact that he was likely going to be tested at some point, but Tim couldn’t be expected to think of every single outcome ever to every fight he has. It’s just not possible, even he has limits.

And he had been fairly certain that it was going to be a larger, more grandiose test, the way the Riddler had.

Still, as the sedative worked its way through his blood stream, causing his head to fog and his knees buckled under his own weight, he couldn’t help but mentally curse out his own stupidity. And as the ground rushed to meet him, he reached his hand up, scrambling for the emergency beacon sew into the collar of his suit and-

It was empty.

Right.

He’d forgotten.

He doesn’t have anyone anymore.

And those were the final thoughts that rushed through him as his world went dark, Scarecrow's feet in front of his eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I lied. I got Tim kidnapped. By the Scarecrow. I... I do feel bad...
> 
> Feel free to yell at me in the comments.
> 
> I do deserve it.
> 
> I love you all, stay safe, praise Bingus.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim tried to breathe calmly, knowing that the calmer you are the longer it took for the fear gas to take hold, as he looked around the room for any kind of escape he could manage.
> 
> He tried to ignore the feeling of the cool liquid spreading to his heart and spreading out along his body, leaving him shaking as his heart sped up and squeezed painfully in his chest and his breath became stilted. But still, the room around him melted away, and the brief thought entered his head that this version of him had no immunities to any of Scarecrow's creations before rational thought slid away and he was left with only nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! In celebration of the doc that I am writing this using reaching 50200 words! Early chapter!!! I hope you all enjoy! There is a lot more in the future!!!

Tim woke up slowly, which immediately told him something was wrong. He had honed that out of himself through years of hyper awareness, and even the universe change hadn’t gotten rid of it.

He kept his breathing even and tried to keep up the charade of sleep while trying to remember what had happened.

Slowly – far to slowly – his brain conjured the memories of the night before – Or was it longer? Tim never had the best internal clock - and he berates himself for his stupidity, pushing off the pain of his momentary lapse in the split timeline.

“Red Robin.” He heard the Scarecrow’s drawl from his left, “I know you are awake. Just admit to it. It will be less painful for you that way.”

Tim kept up with the charade of sleep, wondering briefly if he had just been doing it periodically to try and catch him.

When a hand grabbed his hair and wrenched back his head, it became apparent that that was not the case, and Tim found himself gasping, eyes opening at the unexpected pain.

“There we go.” Tim could practically hear the dripping of sadistic glee in his voice at Tim’s pain. “Isn’t that better. Welcome to my humble abode. Or at least your amenities. Do you like it?”

Scarecrow through his arms wide as Tim took a glance around the room, the room was nothing more than a concrete room with a heavy door and one small, barred window. There were chains hanging from sturdy bars on the ceiling and a couple of drains on the floor betraying the fact that it was likely an old farm, and he was being kept in a butcher room. Tim was sitting on a metal chair bolted to the floor, the only hint of furniture in the room. Still…

“A little stuffy. Maybe if you got a couple more windows and a better ventilation system it wouldn’t be too bad. But this is just kind of sad. You don’t even have a bed in here. 2/10. I give you two for the thematic use of a farm and for the artful chains, but it’s still kinda pitiful dude.” Tim let the bored tone in his voice shine through. Though this is the first time Red Robin had been caught in this timeline, the 3rd boy hostage was old hat at this.

There was the undercut of fear that no one was coming for him, that no one knew what had happened, that no one cared about what happened to Red Robin in this timeline, but he stamped it down before it could take root. He would get himself out of it. It’s not like this is the first time he’s ever had to get himself out of trouble in any timeline.

“My oh my. What a witty vigilante you are.” Scarecrow cackles. “I do wonder how that bravado will hold up to a fun little bit of fear?”

This sends a bolt of adrenaline through Tim’s heart. Scarecrow had always been one of Tim’s least favourite villains to fight to fight. He hated the pull of fear that undercut their meetings, the pull of a base indistinct of fight or flight. Hated the idea that he could be killed by visions of his worst fears.

And now he was here alone, with no back up, and no immediate escape.

Tim opens his mouth to say something, but before any words can pass his lips a needle presses into his neck, the opaque red liquidized fear toxin was pushed slowly into his bloodstream.

“Do have fun, boy. I’ll be back to check on you soon. Try not to die.” Scarecrow said as he went for the door, exiting with barely a wave.

Tim tried to breathe calmly, knowing that the calmer you are the longer it took for the fear gas to take hold, as he looked around the room for any kind of escape he could manage.

He tried to ignore the feeling of the cool liquid spreading to his heart and spreading out along his body, leaving him shaking as his heart sped up and squeezed painfully in his chest and his breath became stilted. But still, the room around him melted away, and the brief thought entered his head that this version of him had no immunities to any of Scarecrow's creations before rational thought slid away and he was left with only nightmares.

* * *

Gasping, Tim looked around. He was in the cave, chained in a cell, but he didn’t know why. It didn’t make sense.

“Oh. You’re finally awake.” Tim’s eyes snapped to where Bruce stood, outside the cell with his arms crossed.

“B? Wh-what’s going on?” Tim felt foggy, his adrenalin was peaking, he felt fear. But he wasn’t scared of Bruce, so why did he feel this way?

“I don’t know. You tell me, Timothy. You are the one who decided to mess with time.” Tim felt his heart stutter. He remembered now what was wrong, but they weren’t supposed to _know_. They were never supposed to know.

“I- I’m sorry, I know it was…” He scrambled for the right words to placate his mentor, but he didn’t know how he even knew. He couldn’t plan for any of this. His heart burned. “It was unethical, to mess with time, but I just wanted to save Ja-”

“You think I care that you saved my son? You think _that_ is what angers me?” Tim felt a brief reprieve. He had done right. Relief burned bright for all but a second before it was replaced with terror once more. “No. What I care about is the fact that you decided that you should interject yourself back into our lives. It’s like you didn’t actually want to change anything. You just wanted brownie points.”

“N-no, I promise. Th-that’s not what I-” Tim’s eyes, his lungs, his chest, his entire being _burned_. That wasn’t what he wanted. He wasn’t going for brownie points. He just wanted to save Jason. He wanted Bruce to be happy. He wanted-

“You are an insanely selfish person Tim. I regret taking you in.” Bruce’s words were venom, seeping through his veins and burning himself from the inside out, leaving a trail of raw pain. Tim’s breath was shallow, he couldn’t get enough air in, but it didn’t matter. He had to fix this. He had-

“No, Dad, ple-”

“Don’t call me that.” Bruce’s voice was artic cold, chilling him to his very core and constricting his heart further. “You aren’t my son. You never have been. You never will be. You are an annoyance that I only kept around because of a misplaced sense of pity and that fact that you could, on occasion, be known to be useful. But at this point you’ve outgrown your ability to help.”

“N-no, please.” Tim was sobbing, pulling on the chains binding him, trying to get out, to change things, to prove he is better. “I- I’ll do better. Please. Please don’t leave!”

Tim had been reduced to begging, and the cold look from Bruce burned him from the core, but he couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t be left alone again.

“Pathetic.” The word was spat, echoing in Tim's head, searing his brain, making him all the more desperate as sobs fell from his lips like waterfalls. “This is why no one ever stays, Tim. You aren’t worth anything.”

Bruce turned, leaving the room and Tim, sobbing on the floor, begging desperately for him to come back.

“Dad! Br- Please! Please come back! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please don’t leave me-” The rest of Tim’s words were cut off with a sob, air leaving his lungs as he tried desperately to pull in more, but he couldn’t keep any of it. He was left, floundering for air, trying desperately to pull it in, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. and his sobs were shocking gasps as the edges of his vision went dark.

“Hold on kid, I got you.” The words were distant, and Tim didn’t understand where they were coming from, but he didn’t care as he tugged harder on the chains, wanting to run, to find someone, anyone, to prove he wasn’t really alone.

Through the haze of desperation, he felt a prick on his neck, followed by a soothing trail of gentle warmth, and then the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... This is a celebration post, so I feel bad that this was like... All angst. But I hope you guys enjoyed regardless.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment, I love talking with y'all and I hope you all have a wonderful week!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Scarecrow decided that Red Robin would make a good test subject. He used some gas on him.” Jason explained, “Except it wasn’t a gas, it was the liquid toxin.”
> 
> Jason heard a sharp inhale from Bruce but wasn’t surprised. The gas itself was dangerous, it resulted in a lot of death, but the liquid stuff was hazardous. It was potent and fast acting. Where someone can be exposed to fear gas and last hours – sometimes days depending on how much – at a time before death – thereby giving the Bats time to save more people – and sometimes can just let it run it’s course in low enough doses, the liquid always killed within the hour. The direct contact with the bloodstream and interaction with the heart caused the adrenaline to spike much quicker, and – as Jason knew from experience – the nightmare were much darker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I keep telling myself I'm going to make a schedule and stick to it... And then I don't. So you will all continue to get updates sporadically when I feel like it. I will try to at least keep them withing 2 weeks of each other unless something comes up, at which point I will try to let you guys know. 
> 
> But for now! Enjoy!

Jason was having a pretty good night. He had stopped some muggings, helped a couple of girls get to safe shelters, and had felt the vicious satisfaction of breaking a would-be rapist’s nose and arm.

It was about this time that he saw a couple of Scarecrows goons heading out of town. Immediately, he radioed it into Bruce.

“Follow them, find out where they are going, but don’t engage. Apparently Red Robin had a run in with a group of them last night, but no one knows what came of it.”

“Copy that B. I’ll keep in touch.”

Jason took off after the goons, following them out of the city and to an old barn. He parked his bike in some bushes and used a tree to climb to the room. From there he finds an old bashed in skylight and uses that to get onto the rafters and begins casing the place.

It’s a fairly spacious barn, the center of which is filled with several tables. Other than that there are several recommissioned stalls housing a bed, and a toilet and nothing else. Inside some of them are people, and so Jason radios Bruce back immediately.

“Ok, so you need get out here immediately B. I think it’s the main hideout, and he’s got people here.” Jason starts in a whisper, “I don’t see him at the moment, but the goons are all his.”

“I see, I will be out as soon as possible. Wait for me and don’t engage.”

“You got it B. I’ll see you-” He is cut off by Scarecrow entering through the front door and walking over to a heavy door that Jason had yet to notice. It sat flush against the wall; the handle was an indent that wasn’t entirely noticeable. Taking a glance into the room as the door slowly began to close behind him had Jason blood rushing cold. There, tied to a metal chair and slumped over, was Red Robin. Shooting a small bug in just before the door closed completely was risky, but Jason knew he had to do it. As quickly and quietly as he could, Jason exited the skylight and lowered himself to a tree with a view into the room that he had noticed on the way in.

“B, you need to hurry, Red Robin is here.” Jason tried to keep the panic out of his voice, but from the slight inhale from Bruce, he didn’t quite manage it.

“What do you mean? Did he engage? Is he in over his head? Is he a threat to your safety?”

“No,” Jason choked out, as he watched Scarecrow wrench back his head. “Scarecrow already had him. I don’t- I don’t think his run in turned out well for him. I managed to get a bug in there, but I’m going to have to switch channels to listen.”

“Understood. ETA 2 minutes.”

Jason didn’t bother to respond, switching over to the bug as he watches Scarecrow's arms swing wide.

“-mble abode. Or at least your amenities. Do you like it?”

“A little stuffy. Maybe if you got a couple more windows and a better ventilation system it wouldn’t be too bad. But this is just kind of sad. You don’t even have a bed in here. 2/10. I give you two for the thematic use of a farm and for the artful chains, but it’s still kinda pitiful dude.” Almost immediately, the somewhat bored sounding reply came from the vigilante, and Jason had to hand it to him, the first time he had been held hostage was terrifying, and he had known that someone was coming for him. How Red Robin wasn’t freaking out about this was beyond Jason.

“My oh my. What a witty vigilante you are.” Scarecrow cackles. “I do wonder how that bravado will hold up to fun little bit of toxin?”

Jason watched, his own heart rate speeding ever so slightly as Red Robin went rigid, a sudden fear keyed up in his posture as he opened his mouth, obviously intent on saying something. But before he could get any words out, a needle was pressed into a small gap on the skin under his jaw. Jason watched, entrapped, as the stopper was pushed down, and the opaque red of liquidized fear toxin was forced into Red Robin’s bloodstream.

“Do have fun, boy. I’ll be back to check on you soon. Do try not to die.” With a smirk, Scarecrow turned towards the door opening it and walking out, crushing the big underfoot, but not noticing it.

Ignoring the burst of static it brought; Jason switched channels.

“Please tell me you are almost here. Because shit just hit the fan in a big way B.”

“We are about a minute out. What happened?”

“Scarecrow decided that Red Robin would make a good test subject. He used some gas on him.” Jason explained, “Except it wasn’t a gas, it was the liquid toxin.”

Jason heard a sharp inhale from Bruce but wasn’t surprised. The gas itself was dangerous, it resulted in a lot of death, but the liquid stuff was hazardous. It was potent and fast acting. Where someone can be exposed to fear gas and last hours – sometimes days depending on how much – at a time before death – thereby giving the Bats time to save more people – and sometimes can just let it run it’s course in low enough doses, the liquid always killed within the hour. The direct contact with the bloodstream and interaction with the heart caused the adrenaline to spike much quicker, and – as Jason knew from experience – the nightmare were much darker.

And the kid, from what Jason could see, was already having a bad time. He had gone stock still, uncommon for a victim of the toxin, who tended to lash out and fight, and Jason knew he had to act, worried that it was a new strain, or some unknown added into the mix.

“Look, I have to go in. Something is up. I know you are close, so I’m going to go in through the window and give him the antidote to the strain we have, given that it may be the same, or at the very least take the edge off a bit.” Jason was stern. Telling Bruce and not asking for permission, because he knew he was almost there and trusted him to get him out of any trouble that may arise.

“Ok. Just be careful.”

“Will do. I am turning off my comm. In case he… Ya know… Starts screaming.” And before he can get a response Jason turns off the comm and ties his grapple to a branch before swinging over to the window and grabbing the ledge. Luckily, it’s unlocked, and slides open with little resistance. Slipping through, Jason carefully drops to the ground and makes his way over to where Red Robin is tied.

“-omise. Th-that’s not what I-” Red was saying, and up-close Jason could see the trembling from the kid. He tried to sush him gently, going through his utility belt for everything he needed to administer the antidote, but it didn’t seem to help any.

“No, Dad, ple-” His words were cut off, likely from something said in whatever hallucination he saw is, and Jason stopped for a moment, breath stuttering. He felt sick. It reminded him far too much of things he himself had said to Willis back before Bruce was around to show him what a real father was.

“N-no, please.” It was obvious now that Red Robin was sobbing, loud harsh gasps, suddenly moving as well, pulling on the chains binding him down, trying to get out and Jason wanted so badly to help, to undo the chains, but he knew that it would just make giving the kid the antidote harder, so took a breath and tried to focus on the task at hand.

“I- I’ll do better. Please. Please don’t leave!”

Jason felt his heart break at the desperation in his voice. He understood how the kid felt, the crippling fear of abandonment. He’d mostly moved past it in his later years, but he could remember the days before he’s begun working past it, remembers going out in search of family before he could be kicked out, and he had to pause again to steady his own hands and not prick himself with the needle he was attempting to get in the vial of medication. He swallowed, mentally reworking the scene that had been painted in his head.

“Dad! Br- Please! Please come back! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please don’t leave me-” The rest of the desperate words were cut off with a sob, deep, filled with a soul crushing pain, and he had to blink back tears, trying to push away the Jason feelings and be just Bluejay, but he just can’t seem to separate the two.

Jason watched as he tried to bring in more gasps of air but could see how it wasn’t working. He knew that to be the toxin, the forced-up adrenalin, forcing his body into a fight or flight panic as it interacted with his body. Jason was quick to finish pulling the antidote, quick calculations done for his estimated size and weight.

“Hold on kid, I got you.” But the words didn’t seem to do much for Red, and he only seemed to tug harder on the chains, thick with desperation and keening in the way that broke Jason’s heart as he tugged and tugged, rubbing his wrists raw.

Jason quickly brings over the antidote, whispering apologize as he administers it, and watches it work its way through him. Watching the way the body slackens, untensing as he falls unconscious.

Pausing to take a breath, Jason then begins to work on undoing the chains holding him down, hoping to clean and wrap them before he wakes up, but finds himself having to stop when undoing the chains around his legs because he can’t see through the film of tears anymore, and he dropped back on the ground as a sob worked its way out of his mouth, quickly followed by another, then another, and another.

Jason pressed a hand over his mouth to muffle them, but it did nothing to taper the echo off of the walls around him. He didn’t get it. Not entirely. He had dealt with other victims before. One that had stronger reactions, ones whose fears were more in line with his core fears and things he himself had seen, but there was something about this that was giving him a reaction that he’s only ever really gotten from seeing his own family’s reaction to the toxin.

Jason figured it had something to do with the fact that he was a vigilante, or maybe just the seer desperation of not wanting to be alone, or maybe it was something else entirely, something nagging at the back of his mind. But whatever it was, it was leaving Jason a sobbing mess on the ground.

The door behind him opened up, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around when he felt the safe comfort of his father behind him.

“Bluejay!” Bruce was immediately in front of him, checking him over for injuries.

“I’m ok, B” Jason said, trying to force aside the sobs with only marginal success. “I just... He… What he- What he said…”

Luckily, Bruce seemed to catch on to what Jason meant, because he pulled Jason into a tight hug for a few minutes, allowing the boy to shake apart and then mostly stitch himself back together before he pulled away.

Taking a deep breath, Jason gestures for Bruce to work on the chains around his ankles and sets to work cleaning and wrapping his wrists. It’s not much longer, only a minute or so after he finished working, that Red Robin began to wake up. And although Jason couldn’t see his eyes under the lenses of his costume, he got the distinct impression that he was blinking rapidly before catching sight of Jason and Bruce.

But the moment he caught sight of them, Jason watched as he stiffened, then relaxed, then stiffened again, and prepared himself for however this may go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So look! I am capable of fluff... And we will get some! Maybe... Possibly... Eventually... I think...


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim stiffened thinking it had to be another hallucination.
> 
> Thinking maybe Scarecrow had given him an antidote, before sticking him with something new.
> 
> Then he relaxed, because he realized if he knew where he was and how he had gotten there, then that probably wasn’t it.
> 
> Then stiffened again, because this _wasn’t them_. At least, not the them that Tim knew. These were strangers, and Tim had to treat them as such.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Early chapter because I am an impatient _fool_ who demands validation from strangers on the internet.
> 
> But! This chapter is much nicer to Tim then... Literally any other chapter I have written about the poor boy... 
> 
> The bar was very low, but I hope you enjoy!

Tim slowly opened his eyes, muscle sore and blinking rapidly as he tried to remember what had happened. It flashed through his mind in quick succession.

Scarecrow and his goon. Waking up in the concrete room. The fear gas.

The hallucinations.

Looking around, he saw Bruce and Jason standing by the door, not too far from him, and Tim stiffened thinking it had to be another hallucination.

Thinking maybe Scarecrow had given him an antidote, before sticking him with something new.

Then he relaxed, because he realized if he knew where he was and how he had gotten there, then that probably wasn’t it.

Then stiffened again, because this _wasn’t them_. At least, not the them that Tim knew. These were strangers, and Tim had to treat them as such.

“Batman, Bluejay.” He says, swallowing briefly against the onslaught of fear from seeing Bruce.

_'You aren’t my son. You never have been. You never will be. You are an annoyance that I only kept around because of a misplaced sense of pity and that fact that you could, on occasion, be known to be useful. But at this point you’ve outgrown your ability to help.’_

He quickly shakes it off, pushing himself to his feet, fully intending to leave and go back to his apartment, to avoid the awkwardness of having obviously been seen in such a vulnerable position.

“Thank you… I assume you helped… But I should go…” Tim tried to put the Red Robin indifference into his voice, but he was still feeling the aftereffects of the fear toxin, as well embarrassment, so it came out far more stilted than he had wanted it to.

Lowering his head, he went to walk past them, only to be stopped by Jason's hand on his arm.

He had to fight down the gut reaction to flinch.

“Wait, Red. Let us take you back.” There was a slight scratch to his voice that had Tim wondering if he had been caught and put under the effects of fear gas too, thinking it would explain why they were there, but Tim ignored it for the moment and began to protest, only to be cut off “First of all, we are like… In the middle of absolute nowhere outside Gotham and there is no way you are walking back, so unless you can suddenly teleport or for some reason have a bike stashed around here you have no way back. Not to mention that you are shaking, and obviously under the influence of fear toxin still.”

“Look…” Tim tried to figure out how to nicely tell Jason that he absolutely did not want to spend any more time with them for the foreseeable future after they saw who knows what while he was under. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ll be fine. Besides. I don’t want to give either of you any of my safehouse locations.”

He wasn’t entirely lying, even though he didn’t really have any safehouse… Except well… His apartment was a safe place, and it was his house… It counted.

“Then at least let use bring you back to the East Side. Let us drop you anywhere. We just want to make sure you can get somewhere safe. We don’t want you to suffer through the aftereffects alone for however long it would take you to get home.” It was Bruce who offered this time, and as much as Tim wanted to keep arguing, to tell them that it didn’t matter, even if they got him to Gotham proper he was still going to be alone… He was tired. And after hearing that same voice telling him he was useless, that he _deserved to be alone_ …

Tim was caught hook, line, and sinker.

“Ok. If you guys… If you’re sure it’s not a problem…”

“Of course not, Red!” Jason said, still holding his arm in a comforting pressure, and Tim reviled in the touch for a moment, allowing the warmth to soak into him. “It’s on our way anyways.”

Tim snorted a bit at that, knowing that if they were at the hideout Tim thought they might be at, it was absolutely not on the way back to the cave, but he didn’t bother fighting them on it.

“Whatever you say, Blue.”

* * *

Ten minutes later found Tim huddled in the Batmobile with a blanket wrapped around him that he wasn’t entirely sure where he had gotten it while Jason and Bruce talked to the GCPD. Tim doesn’t remember how Bruce managed to convince him that this was for the best – something about how he shouldn’t be forced to talk to the police while still suffering the aftereffects of fear toxin, and how if it’s not expected of civilians, then it shouldn’t be expected of vigilantes – but Tim found himself looking around the car with a slight wonder.

Everything was pretty much the same, very few notable differences, but the sense of wonder that came just from the fact that he was in the Batmobile again was unexpected and staggering. After a few more moments, his thoughts were cut off by the door opening and Bruce and Jason entering. Though, Jason shocked him by getting into the back seat with him.

“What? The passenger seat broken or something?” Tim couldn’t help but quip.

“Nah. Just figured that you would like some company.” Jason replied, and Tim was a little floored. He had figured that was the case, but he hadn’t thought Jason would actually admit to that. He also didn’t expect the point of contact to come when Jason once again went back to holding his forearm in a gentle but firm grasp, giving Tim an anchor to be grounded in reality instead of having to focus on everything around him.

It felt nice.

“O-oh.. Th-thanks… I.. Guess…”

God, as if Tim couldn’t get any more awkward.

“No problem.” Jason replied, as if the fact that he was giving Tim more casual contact then he has had in ages was no big deal.

The rest of the ride was silent, Tim directing them to a coffee shop about 20 minutes from his apartment to be let out at. Not once during the whole ride did Jason let go, and he and Bruce kept up a pretty casual conversation, not expecting anything from Tim, but obviously leaving it open for if he wanted to jump in. It was nice. Grounding, like the touch on his arm. He let the words lull him into a calm state until he got to where they were going and Tim unwillingly took back his arm, moving to get out of the car.

“Wait,” Bruce said as he reached for the handle, “Before you go…”

He hesitated, but Tim just waited. Figured that Bruce just needed time to sort out what to say. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to, and luckily it didn’t take him long to figure out this wording.

“I wanted to give you this.” He holds out a small round panic button, it’s the size of the pad of Tim’s thumb and he takes it reverently. “It’s a panic button. I don’t know what happened, how you got captured, and I’m not going to ask, but we got lucky that Bluejay had found you when he did, and I would… Well… I would like to know that if something like that happens again you have a way to signal for help.”

Bruce is very much not looking at him, and his voice is gruff and closed off, but Tim understands perfectly what is going on.

“We may not have necessarily gotten off on the right foot, but you have proven that you are a valuable asset.” Tim’s eyes were wide, they burned slightly with tears, and he thanked every deity out there that his lenses were white outs. “I would hate if something happened to you when I could help prevent that.”

He clears his throat and Tim can tell that that is the end of it. He opens the door, and quietly slips out, closing the door behind him with a quiet whisper of thanks before he takes off into the night to get home.

* * *

When Tim gets home, he makes quick work of slipping out of his costume and slipping into bed, setting the emergency button on the table beside him. It was as much of a comfort as it was a terrifying thing to have around.

On one hand, Tim knew that this meant that they were getting attached, which was not at all what he had planned to have happen – though he only had himself to blame for that one – and that terrified him. On the other, the fact that he had people out there watching his back. That he could at any point reach out and touch the button and have someone actually get there and help him… It was soothing, and healing in a way that Tim didn’t expect.

It made him feel truly safe for the first time since… He doesn’t even know, but right now, he couldn’t care less.

It didn’t matter that he was undoing the work he had done by getting close to them. It doesn’t matter that they are getting attached.

Tim feels safe, and it’s enough to have him fall asleep with a smile for the first time in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, tell me what do you guys think. Did Bruce give him the emergency beacon because he'd do it for anyone he's deemed as in need of his help... Or do y'all think it's more? Also, any guesses as to what's coming next? I love reading your theories, because part of the time people are spot on, part of the time it's completely wrong, and once or twice I've written down an idea or two someone has said.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed, and I hope you have a _wonderful_ day!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Figuring that he had been out for long enough, Tim turned from the edge of the east end he had been at to return home, only to catch sight of the 24-hour Bat Burger that he had been to several times with his brothers… Before. Tim shook his head, fully intending to just go home, but his stomach decided to growl, as if spurred on by the idea of the mediocre warm burgers that the body in this timeline had rarely had, and before Tim could truly comprehend, he had his grapple out and was swinging down the street level.
> 
> Wandering into the dingey lobby of the restaurant, Tim froze. Sitting in a back corner of the restaurant was Nightwing, Bluejay, and Robin. 
> 
> But Tim was hungry and far too tired to freak out like he normally would, so he pressed forward, ignoring the three vigilantes who had gone silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is just after midnight EST, which means! I technically waited a whole week to upload! Go me! I had some self restraint!
> 
> Now! Something that came up a lot in last chapters comments! The panic button!
> 
> Here is the thing. I totally forgot that the panic button would have a tracker in it. I mean like... I knew, because that would be how he got found were he too trigger it... But I totally forgot that it could - theoretically - get activated remotely by say... Batman. I have a few plans now, but like... Y'all smarter then me sometimes, lmao.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the chapter!

Tim took the next night off from everything, just to let himself reset and relax, work out the last residual traces of the fear toxin in his body, but he was back out the night after. He was jittery still, and a nightmare had kept him from getting much sleep in the hours before patrol, but still had an area of the city to patrol and he wanted to be sure people felt safe.

It was, luckily for him, a rather slow evening, and by 2am he had only had to stop 2 muggings and put the fear of god into a dealer who was attempting to sell to kids – maybe all Jason’s rants about how it was one thing for dealers to deal to adults who were already hooked or who knew the cost of taking drugs was one thing, but dealing to kids who really had no way to know better was deplorable and cowardly had gotten to Tim, sue him.

Figuring that he had been out for long enough, Tim turned from the edge of the east end he had been at to return home, only to catch sight of the 24-hour Bat Burger that he had been to several times with his brothers… Before. Tim shook his head, fully intending to just go home, but his stomach decided to growl, as if spurred on by the idea of the mediocre warm burgers that the body in this timeline had rarely had, and before Tim could truly comprehend, he had his grapple out and was swinging down the street level.

Wandering into the dingey lobby of the restaurant, Tim froze. Sitting in a back corner of the restaurant was Nightwing, Bluejay, and Robin.

But Tim was hungry and far too tired to freak out like he normally would, so he pressed forward, ignoring the three vigilantes who had gone silent.

“Welcome to Bat Burger,” Said an exhausted looking college student, who likely hadn’t had enough sleep and wasn’t paid enough to even fake enthusiasm or care about any of the vigilantes in the room, “What can I get for you?”

Casting a quick look at the menu to ensure that his normal meal was unchanged – and not at all feeling disappointed in the missing Red Robin and Red Hood meals, no siree – he made a quick decision.

“I’ll have a Nightwing meal, but with a large black coffee to drink with 3 extra espresso shots, to stay.” He didn’t know if it was the familiar setting, the far too bright fluorescent lights, or the undisguised but familiar feeling of eyes at his back – or even just the general aura of _exhaustion_ that permeated the air – but the missed hours from the nightmares were finally starting to catch up with Tim.

“That’ll be $9.97.” The worker replied, not even blinking at the extra espresso shots in the order.

Tim wordlessly handed over a 20, waving off the change with a mumble that he hoped conveyed something along the lines of ‘keep the change’ as he leaned against the wall and waited for the sweet nectar that was caffeine.

“Geez Red,” Pipes up Bluejay from the booth, “Trying for a caffeine overdose?”

“Nah,” Tim half says, half mumbles, “Just a little tired. Need a good pick me up.”

“And 3 shots of espresso is a pick me up?” Nightwing asks, sounding almost incredulous to Tim’s ears, “Man. I would hate to know what you need something to actually get you going.”

“Usually 2 or 3 caffeine capsules washed down with a coffee with 4 or 5 espresso shots, depending on how tired I actually am.” Tim lies with a slight smirk, because he is feeling like being a little shit. It may have gotten that bad, if it hadn’t been all but beaten into him how bad caffeine could actually be for him. He capped himself at a large coffee with 4 espresso shots, or maybe 2 caffeine capsules if he was _really_ needing it quick. If he started to crave more, he figured that it was time to get some actual sleep, lest he gain any of the worse sleep deprivation symptoms.

“I’m sorry, what?” Nightwing all but screeches, “How on earth are you even _alive_ right now.”

Tim can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of his mouth.

“I’m kidding. I just wanted to see your reaction.” Tim gets out, between his giggles, “The most I’ll do is 4 espresso shots. If I’m craving more I know it’s time to sleep.”

“That is still a deplorable amount of caffeine, Red Robin.” Robin says, though Tim ignores it slightly as he goes to grab his meal, taking a large sip of his coffee, letting the warmth fill him.

What would he do without the mediocre 2am Bat Burger coffee?

“I’m better than I used to be.” He replies with a shrug, going to sit at a table on the other side of the room.

“Dude, wait.” Bluejay says, “Come sit over here, why don’t you? We don’t bite.”

Tim’s feet, once more, change course before he can stop them, and he finds himself in the booth, sliding in next to Bluejay.

“Won’t Daddy Bats be mad to find out that you invited me to sit with you guys?” he raises his eyebrow slightly, but realizes that it’s likely a fruitless endeavour, considering they can’t see his eyes through the cowl, “After all, I thought I was special enough to get a general ‘so not engage’ warning.”

“Dude.” Bluejay says, “We literally gave you a panic button. That means you’re basically family.”

Suddenly the bite of burger in Tim’s mouth was too thick as he tried to swallow.

“Is that so?”

* * *

It was sometime after 2 when Jason had been contemplating going home that Dick managed to convince both Damian and him to go to Bat Burger with him, and now they sit huddled in one of the back booths, taking and stealing each others fries, and even Damian’s façade is more relaxed as Dick makes some stupid crack about a fight he had been in with the Titan’s that involved him ending up in a frilly pink dress.

That stopped when the door opened and in stumbled Red Robin.

Jason was shocked. He knew that Red hadn’t been out the night before – which was good, the dude should take time to recover, fear toxin is nasty shit – but he had been expecting him to stay home for a few more days at least. Bruce had a strict rule that you weren’t allowed out for 3 nights after a hit of toxin, and it had been a fight to get him to let Jason out, even though he _hadn’t_ been exposed to the toxin.

Just to Red’s terrified begging.

Which reminds him. _Why the fuck is he out?_

“I’ll have a Nightwing meal, but with a large black coffee to drink with 3 extra espresso shots, to stay.” Red orders, words slightly slurred with what Jason hopes is just exhaustion. Jason, Dick, and Damian all balk slightly at the coffee order, as Red sways slightly in place.

“That’ll be $9.97.” The worker replied, not even blinking at the extra espresso shots in the order, likely overworked and unpaid enough to just not give a fuck.

Red Robin wordlessly handed over a 20, refusing the offered change with what could be either ‘keep the change’ or ‘diamond deer.’ It was hard to tell.

“Geez Red,” Jason calls, shaking off the shock, “Trying for a caffeine overdose?”

“Nah,” Comes the half-mumbled reply as he leans against a wall “Just a little tired. Need a good pick me up.”

“And 3 shots of espresso is a pick me up?” There is a note of ‘dude, what the fuck’ in Dick’s voice that makes Jason almost laugh, “Man. I would hate to know what you need something to actually get you going.”

“Usually 2 or 3 caffeine capsules washed down with a coffee with 4 or 5 expresso shots, depending on how tired I actually am.” Jason’s eyes bug out at the still near incomprehensible response.

“I’m sorry, what?” Comes Dick’s screech, and Jason can’t but agree. Even Damian seems at least slightly disturbed at the amount of caffeine. “How on earth are you even _alive_ right now.”

Suddenly, Red bursts into laughter. It’s a light sound that carries through the whole lobby as he leans against the wall. It chases off the part of Jason’s brain that was just hearing the begging from the night before that had been on loop in his ears.

“I’m kidding.” Gets giggled out at some point in the laughter. “I just wanted to see your reaction. The most I’ll do is 4 espresso shots. If I’m craving more I know it’s time to sleep.”

“That is still a deplorable amount of caffeine, Red Robin.” Damian bites out as Red goes over and grabs the food that is brought out for him, taking a sip of his coffee and dropping some tension that Jay hadn’t even noticed he was carrying.

“I’m better than I used to be.” And wow, is that not another can of worms that Red just opened with a slight shrug. Jason wanted to know if he realized what he was doing when he said that sort of stuff.

“Dude, wait.” Jay calls as he starts to shuffle over to a table on the other side of the room. “Come sit over here, why don’t you? We don’t bite.”

“Won’t Daddy Bats be mad to find out that you invited me to sit with you guys?” Red asks, but he comes over and slides in next to Jason without any real argument, so Jason takes it as the joke he probably meant it to be. “After all, I thought I was special enough to get a general ‘so not engage’ warning.”

“Dude. We literally gave you a panic button. That means you’re basically family.” Jason says without thought. Though he can’t help but freeze at the look on Red’s face, remembering his comment about his family from the first night they officially met.

“Is that so?” It’s tense and Red refuses to meet anyone’s eyes as he swallows another bit of his burger.

Shooting a look over a Dick, Jason tries to convey ‘help, I fucked up, fix this’ and prays that he gets it.

“Well I mean, who else is there to keep track of your insane caffeine intake?” Dick asks, a hint of tease in his voice that Jason desperately hopes will cause Red to rise to the bait. “Obviously, you have a bit of an issue Mr. 3 shots of espresso.”

“More espresso, less depresso.” Red replies, and while there is still some tension and obvious pain, he at least relaxes a fraction, taking another long draw of his coffee.

“A truly eloquent butchering of the English language.” Damian chimes in dryly.

“Geez. Who knew the baby boy would be so stickily over some grammar?” Red teases. “What would you like me to do, oh wise child? Write a formal letter apologizing to the entirety of the English language?”

“I will have you know I am no child.” Damian says, and if he wasn’t so firmly stuck into Dick’s side, Jason would be worried about the poor workers having to clean up blood. “Besides. Given your height and the deplorable way you speak, I can’t assume but that you are also, as you put it, a child.”

If it weren’t for the sudden thought that _none of them actually knew how old this vigilante was_ Jason would have laughed at the petulant tone in his voice. But as it was, Jason was acutely aware that Damian was right.

He seemed young. Was he younger than Jason? He was shorter than Jason, scrawnier as well. But Jason has also finally gotten that growth spurt that everyone said he would have when he hit 16, since then he had only gotten wider as well, so most people Jason hung out with were smaller than him.

“I will have you know,” Red began, as he ate the last piece of his burger and started on his fries, not even actually looking at them, “That I am almost 18. Therefore I am practically an adult, and you can’t say shit, child.”

“You are… You’re 17?” Dick asks, and he seems nearly terrified as he whispers it into the suddenly silent air. “Why… Why are you out fighting criminals at 17?”

Red finally looking up, seems to catch the looks he’s getting. He pales slightly beneath the cowl, as if realizing what he says before scoffing quietly and slightly forced.

“You are one to talk. Didn't you start crime fighting at like… 10, and in scaly underpants?” He is looking away again, lightly chewing on his lip and Jason takes a moment to really let it sink in that _this is a child._

“I mean, it was a leotard, Red, this is…” Dick flounders for a moment, “You don’t have to do this. You can stop.”

“Would you stop?” Red asks quietly, “You’ve known this… This fight, for so much of your life. It’s ingrained in you, it’s what you live and breathe. You can’t stop.”

He pauses, his posture has gone back rigid, but it’s a close off pain and Jason wants nothing more than to stop it, smooth out the tension in his shoulders, but then Red starts speaking again, “This fight is something I have known, something I have watched my whole life. It’s what I live and breathe. I can’t just stop. Not now. Maybe not ever. You should know it’s not that easy.”

“Look, kid,” Jason begins, trying to figure out how to even begin to put into words what he’s feeling about this. He feels sick, to an extent. Knows exactly what Red was feeling because that same fight flows through him, unrelenting and strong, unbending, and Jason knows the sentiment “You know vigilantism is dangerous, and you don’t have to do it. Whatever it is that drove you to this… It doesn’t… You don’t need to let it define you…”

“God.” There is a quiet not of bittersweet hopefulness in his voice, “I wish so badly it was that easy Blue. But it’s far too late for me.”

Jason watches as Red stands, silent and graceful as he gets his feet under him, and walks out the door. They watch through the glass door as he shoots a grapple and lifts out of sight, and Jason can finally understand the meaning of a loud silence.

“Father is going to be hearing about this… Right?” Damian asks, He looks slightly uncomfortable, which bugs Jason out, as that’s basically the kid projecting a very loud ‘this is terrifying and I don’t like it.’

“Absolutely Baby Bird.” Dick says as he leads them up, cleaning off the table and returning the trays, “By the end of the year we are likely going to have another brother.”

“I can’t bring myself to object to the notion.” Damian replies.

“Me neither short stack.” Jason says, staring contemplatively off where Red Robin had disappeared too as they leave, meeting their bikes just outside.

“Let’s go tell B about our soon to be brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to write some fluffy shit between the boys! Why does this always happen!
> 
> On the plus side, now they know his age! I know when they first met they had estimated him to be young, Jason thought to himself that Tim was _maybe_ his age. I'm not exactly retconning that, _but_ I am looking at it as a "yeah, he looks young, but he holds himself similarly to Bruce, so they never entirely connected those dots" kinda a thing. 
> 
> They knew he was young, but they didn't think that young and they hadn't exactly put much thought into it.
> 
> Anyways! As always, I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave a comment or a theory. Or even just a random headcannon! Here's mine, because I am projecting at the moment:
> 
> Tim Drake likes all of Corpses music, but he is particularly a fan of Agoraphobic because he relates to it.
> 
> Like I said, kinda project-y but that's it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing first!
> 
> **Trigger Warning for this chapter**  
>  There is a rather graphic panic attack at the beginning of this chapter, if you wanna skip it, scroll down to the page break, it will say ' "Bruce!" Bruce heard Dick call as he got back into the cave,'
> 
> Ok, so I don't know about all of you, but my email has been dry the past few days, pretty much nothing has been updated, so I thought I might give you guys a slightly early update.
> 
> My only issue is I don't have the immediate next few chapters written up, so next weeks chapter may be a little late. I swear I have it planning, but every time I go to work on it my brain goes "Here is like 5 chapters down the line" or "Hey, have a reverse robin AU where you just hurt Tim because that's all the ideas I give you" and I get side tracked.
> 
> On a different note, I may post another fic at some time in the near-ish future, if a reverse robin AU is something anyone may be interested in.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the chapter!

Tim got himself home before he let the panic overtake him.

_Why did I do that?_

He was shaky, thoughts jumbled and racing to fast for anything else.

_Why did I do that?_

It was careless. Just a jab to get Damian off his back.

_WhydidIdothat?_

Why couldn’t he get any air in? Who was pressing on his chest?

_WhydidIdothat?_

Tim knew, objectively, that he was having a panic attack, but that knowledge did nothing to stem the absolute panic gripping his heart.

_Maybe they won’t say anything?_

Who was he kidding? He saw the look on Dick’s face. Able to read him clearer than he could anyone else in this timeline, save Bruce. He had been horrified that Tim was 17. And the comment about how young he had been likely wasn’t going to help when _everyone else had joined young due to trauma_.

_Maybe Bruce will just let him go._

That was a funnier thought then the last, and he wheezed out a laugh between the desperate pulls of his lungs that _weren’t working_.

He knew about Bruce’s penitent for adopting strays. That an underage kid with no parents and an assumedly tragic backstory meant that Bruce would be nipping at the buds to adopt him – or at the very least pull him into the fray - but that was _wrong_.

Tim was _poison_.

He deserved nothing but _pain_.

Nothing but _anguish_.

He deserved nothing more than to be _alone_.

And didn’t that just pull at the gaping wound in his chest? He _knew_ it was right. _Knew_ that he was not worth the effort that Bruce would likely put in trying to ‘save him.’

He needed a plan. He needed an escape.

He could leave.

But where could he go that Bruce couldn’t follow? He could follow Red Robin anywhere.

Which left only one choice.

He’d have to burn Red Robin.

The thought caused all the panic, all of any emotion to just drop, sink completely out of his body.

He felt numb.

He knew, realistically, that that was the best course of action. That it was what he deserved. Maybe he could create a new persona. Maybe he could find a city with no one and he could take up the role of it’s protector.

But lose Gotham? Lose the only thread he had left of his old life?

He supposed, if it was better for everyone else, why would it matter that it was worse for him?

Tim’s not the one who mattered.

Tim was _never_ the one who should matter.

With that in mind, Tim slipped out of his costume and slid into bed. He’d think about it in the morning.

* * *

“Bruce!” Bruce heard Dick call as he got back into the cave, “We have a new kid for you to adopt!”

Biting back a sigh, he turned in the chair and his eyebrow at his children, a united front, and knew he likely wasn’t getting out of this soon.

“Is that so?”

“That is correct Father.” Damian said as he nodded decisively. “There has been a huge oversight and it needs immediate rectification.”

“Well, I can’t fix it without all the answers.”

‘ _Or on 2 hours of sleep._ ’ He thought, somewhat bitterly. He knew his kids meant well, but Bruce wanted to sleep.

“Red Robin,” Jason pushes out with a protective rage, “We ran into him tonight. At two in the morning. At Bat Burger. With a large coffee he added 3 espresso shots too. And we had a chat.”

That worries Bruce some. He loves and trusts his kids, and he doesn’t think anything bad could have necessarily come from it. He _was_ worried about the amount of caffeine in that drink, worried about Red Robin in general, had given him a panic button for a reason, but the way Jay spoke, it sounded like the chat was what had gotten him riled up in the explanation.

“Boys, I love you, but I’m not a mind reader. What has gotten you all stirred up?” A part of Bruce longed for Red Robin’s coffee order.

“Red’s 17.” Dick almost whispers, and Bruce feels the air get punched out of him. “He’s 17 and he’s all alone Bruce.”

That… That was no good. With the cowl it was impossible to get a good read on his age. The way he spoke so often held an almost bitter tone that made him seem older. The way he carried himself…

That was the worst part of it, now knowing his age.

He almost always stood tall. Body projecting a high level of confidence. But there were moments. Moments where that stuttered. Where his body betrayed a look of such deep-seated exhaustion. As though he had been forced to carry something too heavy. As if he held the weight of a million and one tasks on his shoulder, unable to set even one down.

It was a feeling Bruce was intimately familiar with, seeing as he sees it often when he looks in the mirror.

To think that a 17-year-old held that much on.

“I will look into it immediately.”

First he had to figure out who the kid was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Yeah... Tim, not excited at the prospect of adoption. Bruce on the other hand... Super ready for another kid!
> 
> Tell me, what do you guys think the next interaction between Bruce and Tim will be. Will Bruce figure out who Tim is? What do you guys is going to happen next?
> 
> Please feel free to comment, it gives me life and motivation and it makes me happy! Plus, it's nice to know that you are all still enjoying it!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been told by his parents that they would be back by his birthday, but the night before – the day _after_ they were set to arrive home, Tim got an email from his parents explaining that they were sorry, but that their trip got extended due to a new branch of the ruins being found. It had been mildly upsetting, but not really unusual for him.
> 
> They did tell Tim where he could find the present they were going to give him, that they hoped he enjoyed it, and to be careful with it.
> 
> The next morning, he opened the present and found a beautiful camera that he had lifted gingerly from its box and examined it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so so soooooo sorry. I wanted to have this chapter done for you guys last week, but I had so much trouble with it until last night where I cranked it out in an hour (why is my brain like this?)
> 
> Anyways, enjoy, I am... Not exactly mean to Tim in this one!

It had been a week since the Bat Burger incident and so far Tim hadn’t seen hide nor hair of any of the Bat, and while he would love to pretend that none of his ~~ex~~ brothers had told Bruce, or that Bruce didn’t want to at least attempt to bring Tim into the folds, he knew Bruce’s penitent for adopting children – hell, he had adopted _Tim_ even though he had all but forced his way into his life with no premium before the wound from the child he had just lost could even begin to clot – and he knew it was just a matter of time.

It scared him.

He doesn’t even know why he told them about his age, it was stupid stupid _stupid_.

And now he found himself hit with random spikes of anxiety all throughout his patrols as he constantly watched his back for Bruce at all points of the day, regardless of if he was in costume or not.

He had thought long and hard about burning Red Robin – had, jokingly, considered picking up the Red Hood, just to piss off the Joker. And a part of him did consider it would be funny to take over yet another of Jason’s identities, even if he wouldn’t actually know – but in the end Tim decided to keep Red Robin, even though he knew that the Bats would be looking for him.

Red Robin was stability, an island of his own that he made when everything crumbled around him, and even though he knew that he was putting the people cared about in danger… Tim was a selfish man, and he just couldn’t give it up.

He did wonder, briefly, if giving it up might alleviate the anxiety that is constantly flowing through him, but in the end figured he’d be anxious either way, and he least he should do so in a city he knew like the back of his hand.

But knowing that didn’t stop the anxiety at all either and as such – combined with his already very low hours of sleep cut to shreds due to nightmares of what-ifs amplifying those feelings – Tim found himself shaking apart, curled next to an old air-conditioning unit.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, attempting to breath while trying to keep his noises to a minimum, but at some point he is startled when something lands on top of the unit.

But he absolutely did not squeak. Not one bit.

Moments later, a familiar masked face poked its head into view.

“Oh, hello there kitten,” Selina says, voice soft and kind, “What is the fearsome Red Robin doing hiding behind an ac unit?”

Her voice held just the right levels of joking that made Tim feel a little less broken, the same way it always did.

* * *

Tim was 9 years old and very proud of that fact. He was a big boy and his mom and dad had sat him down and explained to him before they left on their trip in May that because Tim old enough now, he was now expected to take care of himself. Mrs. Mac would be coming by 3 times a week to ensure that the house was tidy, and that Tim was behaving, but for the most part, Tim was on his own.

He had access to the food delivery order if he wanted to change anything, and he had a credit card with no limit that he is allowed to use for what he sees fit, so long as he does so responsibly.

He had been told by his parents that they would be back by his birthday, but the night before – the day _after_ they were set to arrive home, Tim got an email from his parents explaining that they were sorry, but that their trip got extended due to a new branch of the ruins being found. It had been mildly upsetting, but not really unusual for him.

They did tell Tim where he could find the present they were going to give him, that they hoped he enjoyed it, and to be careful with it.

The next morning, he opened the present and found a beautiful camera that he had lifted gingerly from its box and examined it. It was an older model, the kind with real film in it, and a note underneath that told him that they had an old spacious hall closet that was out of the way converted into a dark room for him to use as he saw fit, so long as he promised to be careful with the chemicals and not to do any developing until he was sufficiently read up on the subject. He sent a brief but no less excited email to his parents, thanking them for the gift and promising to show them photos when they returned, as they often did for him.

He spent the rest of the morning alternating between taking photos and doing the research needed to be able to develop said photos at a later date.

Then he sat for the evening new.

The news station was running a story on Batman and Robin, and Tim was buzzing in his seat to watch his favourite heroes in action.

And then Robin did a flip.

A quadruple somersault to be exact.

And just when Tim hadn’t thought his day could get any more exciting.

That evening had awoken something in him, when he had realized that not only did he know who his heroes were – something he vowed to himself he would tell no one _ever_ – but that he had met Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne three times at galas his parents had brought him too. 

He spent a lot of time after that practising with his camera, with stealth, researching all he could on Gotham’s streets, and in the middle of August Tim set out into the night to try and capture his heroes on film.

Tim was surprisingly good at that, remaining unseen as he made his way through Gotham, and though his first photos of the dynamic duo were blurry and imperfect, Tim loved them all the same.

Six months after he began was when he ran into Selina for the first time.

He had just caught a photo of Robin zipping off into the night after having beaten some criminals and was packing up to go home when he heard someone land on the opposite side of the roof. Turning quick, he was shocked to catch sight of Catwoman, staring at him with almost as much such as Tim felt.

“Hello there kitten,” she had said, slow and carefully across the expanse of the roof, as if not wanting to spook him, “What are you doing out here this late at night. It’s not safe for little ones this late.”

“Bird Watching.” Tim had blurted out in panic, never having been caught before, “I- I mean-”

“Bird Watching?” She asked, a slight quirk up to her lips, “And what kind of birds do you watch, kitten?”

“Robins,” He blurted out, face heating up and desperate for a conversation switch. “Wh- why are you calling me kitten? I’m not a baby!”

“Oh. And how old are you?”

“I am 9 years old.”

“Oh kitten. Where are your parents?”

“Indonesia.” Tim said, a faint part of his brain said that maybe he shouldn’t be telling a rogue that he was all alone while the rest said that Catwoman wasn’t really a villain anymore. Sure she stole things, but she never takes from people who don’t have enough.

Plus, it has been a while since he has had someone who isn’t paid to pay attention to him… well, pay attention to him.

They are on an archaeological dig, looking for an artifact that is rumoured to be hidden there.”

“I see…” There was a tone in her voice that Tim didn’t know how to decipher, “And what is your name, kitten.”

“Tim.”

“Well then Tim, how about I help you home?”

That had been the first time he met Selina, but it had been far from the last. Over the next few months, they had gotten rather close, Selina kept a close eye on him, and Tim was careful not to do anything that would cause her to be mad at him.

In that time, Selina developed a nickname for him, affectionately calling him Catnip because – as she would say – he was addictingly cute. Tim, in response, started to call her Momma Cat. Tim said it was because she was restrictively protective and they both ignored the flush to Tim’s face and the satisfaction to Selina’s, and it had just stuck.

* * *

Before, when Tim had taken on Robin, he had trained that out of himself, as to not give away who was under the mask in case anyone heard him calling Selina that, and she had done the same. They had kept it so under wraps Tim couldn’t even be sure that Bruce knew about it.

Here, It was never something that had slipped away. No one knew who the kid with the camera was, just that he had Catwoman’s protection, and no one wanted to go against her.

But Tim hadn’t seen her since coming to this timeline.

Selina was the closest thing to an actual mother figure Tim had had since his mother passed away. She had helped him get away from some of the worse homes, bandaged cuts and scrapes, let him crash on her couch. When Tim had decided enough was enough and that he didn’t _want_ to stay in the system anymore, she had offered to let him stay with her, and when he had said no, she was the one who helped him set up in the apartment he had now.

So seeing her again now, with the complicated mix of emotion swirling inside him, he couldn’t help but throw himself into her, tears already beginning to fall.

“Momma Cat!” He all but wailed.

“Catnip,” She replied, catching him with ease even as tensed as she was, “Is that really you under there?”

Tim nodded with a sniffle as he buried against the collar of her suit.

“I think I made a terrible mistake.”

“Oh, kitten,” She said, standing slowly and pulling him up with her. “Come on. I think this conversation is going to take some hot cocoa.”

And so he followed her to her apartment.

And enjoyed a hot chocolate.

And told her _everything_.

Afterwards, she just held him. No judgment. No words of admonishment. Just held him, and pet his head, and told him that things would be ok while he shook apart in her arms.

And while Tim knew there was a conversation to be had in the morning, he just let himself be held and cooed at and looked after by his almost-mother.

Just let him believe for one moment that the world wasn’t going to fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Tim get a hug! And the introduction of Selina, because I am a huge fan of the hc that Selina knew about Tim following Bruce around with a camera, and I needed an easy way to give Tim a hug, lol
> 
> Also, do you know how hard it is for me to balance Tim's parents, because the way I see them - at least for this story - is that they are inattentive, yes, and technically by law they are negligent, but they aren't bad people, they just probably shouldn't have been parents, so I needed to figure out how to write them as loving, but distant. I hope I got that down.
> 
> So, what do you think Selina will do with the information that Tim has given her? Will she tell Bruce? Will she keep it to herself? Will she convince Tim to give up his Red Robin ways and become a thief?
> 
> Anyways, as always, comments and theories and everything else is always welcome, I love talking to you guys and hearing your feedback!!


End file.
